


The Marriage Boot-Camp Murders

by Desirae



Series: The Bond-Mate series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Case Fic, Detective AU, Detective Dean Winchester, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marriage retreat, Married Destiel, Profound Bond, Smut, Soulmates, Telepathy, Undercover husbands, Wing Kink, truemates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: “For this particular case, you’ll be traveling to Newport, Rhode Island,” Bobby said as Crowley reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to Castiel.“So, when you say traveling, you mean-”“Boot Camp,” Dean interrupted grimly. “He’s sending us to Marriage Boot Camp, Cas.”Dean Winchester and his angel husband Castiel were supposed to be laying naked on a beach, sipping fruity cocktails out of coconut shells… not going undercover at a marriage counseling retreat.Now the Paranormal Homicide Detectives have to find out who or what is luring guests to their watery grave; all while navigating group therapy, trust games, and flirtatious housewives as they investigate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Here is my contribution to this year's DCBB. This story is a sequel set three years after [The Bond-Breaker Murders](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562996) but it is not necessary to read that story to read this one. Unless you want to. You know, no pressure or anything...
> 
> First off, a huge thank you to [cloud_wolfbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloud_wolfbane/pseuds/cloud_wolfbane) for doing the artwork for this story. It is amazing and all I could hope for. Please show her some love.
> 
> I also need to thank my beta, who is also my Teapot/Parabatai- Bek. She lets me vent, brainstorm and helps make my words legible. All the love <3
> 
> And of course, thanks to our incredible mods, Muse & Jojo for making Destiel Christmas the awesome success that it is:)

 

                          

**Chapter 1**

 

“Uncle Dean, what does ‘man candy’ mean?” Oliver asked him, mouth full of grilled cheese and dark almond eyes alight with curiosity.

 

Dean nearly choked on his spoonful of tomato soup. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

They were sitting around his sister-in-law’s kitchen table, Detective Dean Winchester and his husband and partner, the earthbound angel Castiel. Castiel’s sister Hael and her husband Kevin were having a rare day off together; in Coney Island, enjoying the shops and amusement park rides. Since Oliver turned five and had started school this past year, Hael had gone back to work at the hospital, and their opposite shifts had left the healer only seeing Kevin on the rare times she was brought in to assist during one of his surgeries.

 

“Olli, where did you hear that term?” Castiel’s sandpaper voice rumbled out, looking at his nephew, head angled like an inquisitive bird. It was a trademark pose for his husband and never failed to make Dean’s insides go soft.

 

Oliver took a big swig of his fruit punch, wiping his face with the back of his arm, upper lip stained pink. Dean rolled his eyes and threw the boy a napkin, which he snatched up with a giggle.

 

“I heard the new neighbor on the phone when me and Lucas was on the trampoline the other day.”

 

Dean shared an amused glance with Castiel, knowing that in kid speak the other day could have been yesterday or a month ago.

 

“Oh yeah?” Dean said, wiping up the dredges of his soup with the crust of his own grilled cheese sandwich.  “What did she say?” Dean winked at his husband, who rolled his eyes, as he was wont to do whenever Dean indulged in gossip. Especially when that gossip came from the lips of a kindergartner.

 

“She said she liked her new house cause the people next door always had ‘man candy’ coming over. I ain’t seen any candy mans here. I looked in all the cabinets,” Oliver said with a shrug. “Do you know where they are?”

 

Dean had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Castiel shot him a warning glare.

 

“Olli, ‘man candy’ isn’t a treat that you eat-”

 

“Well-” Dean interrupted, earning himself a harsh kick to the shin.

 

“It’s just an expression,” Cas continued, “for when someone thinks that a man is… handsome.”

 

“Or sweet enough to eat,” Dean said with a grin. “She must have been talking about you!” he said playfully, opening his eyes wide at Oliver, who responded with an emphatic shake of the head.

 

“That’s gross. Why do girls always say how cute I am? I already know that, everyone tells me.”

 

“Must be your modesty,” Cas said dryly as Dean snickered. “You get that from Uncle Dean.”

 

“What’s modesty?”

 

Dean stood up to start on the dishes. “Never mind that, go wash up.  If you want to make the movie on time, we gotta roll soon.”

 

Castiel gathered the bowls off of the table and placed them in the sink, gently nudging Dean’s shoulder, his hands immersed in hot, soapy water as he washed the soup pan.

 

“I told you that Amara woman was ‘scoping’ you out,” Castiel said darkly and Dean threw his head back, laughing at his angel’s air quotes. Dean took the dish towel Cas offered him and dried his hands, tossing the cloth back on the counter and quickly snagging his husband by the belt loops, tugging him in until his body was flush against his own. The scent of fresh rain, oranges, and petrichor washed over him, and Dean greedily inhaled.

 

“Oh, and there's no way she could have been talking about you, huh? My blue-eyed angel, with perpetual sex hair?”

 

Castiel’s nose crinkled as he smiled brightly at Dean. “I suppose it’s possible she could have been speaking about both of us,” he admitted and Dean hummed in the affirmative as he angled down slightly to kiss Cas on his plush pink mouth.

 

As usual, even only the slightest press of their lips together was enough to have desire shoot through Dean’s body, a feedback loop of shared need that would circle between the bonded human and angel.

 

An exasperated sigh had the pair pulling apart, and Dean had to hide the smirk at the annoyed look on his nephew’s face.

 

“Alls you guys do is kiss,” Oliver said, tone displaying the disgust only a five-year-old could express.

 

“Someday you’ll meet someone that you want to kiss all the time too,” Castiel said knowingly to which Oliver just responded with gagging noises.

 

“Alright, drama king, sneakers on. That movie popcorn ain’t gonna eat itself.”

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe you had him do that,” Cas grunted as he hoisted Oliver, who was fast asleep, in a fireman’s carry.

 

“What was I supposed to do, our hands were literally glistening with butter!” Dean said around a laugh.

 

“You give him napkins, not have him wipe his hands on the back of the seat,” Castiel’s voice was full of censure but Dean was too amused to feel bad about it.

 

“Dude, come on. There wasn’t enough time for that,” Dean reasoned as he hurried to open the backseat door to his Baby so Castiel could put Oliver in his booster seat. “By the time I was able to get the napkins out, it would have been all over his clothes.”

 

“You mean your clothes,” Cas said. “I could see you, backing away from him.”

 

“These are my best jeans!”

 

“You almost tripped over that elderly woman’s lap all to avoid butter hands!” It was the indignation in Castiel’s voice that did it, and Dean found himself bent over at the waist, laughing, one hand braced against the Impala.

 

“You realize, “ Cas continued, ignoring Dean’s chortles, “that I can never go to that theater with you again, don’t you?”

 

Dean raised his head, a few tears of mirth budding in his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic? It was dark, it’s not like anyone saw anything,” he straightened up, and walked around to the driver’s side door.

 

“That’s not the point, Dean, you’re a cop. That was basically destruction of property.”

 

“First off, I’m a detective, there is a difference,” Dean said, choosing to ignore Cas’ eye-roll, “second: it’s a movie theater. Pretty sure they’ve seen worse than butter on the seats.” Dean ducked into the car leaving Castiel standing outside with a disgusted look on his face before he opened his own door and slid into the passenger seat.

 

“You know, if we weren’t married, I’d ask for a transfer,” Castiel said with a long-suffering sigh and Dean gasped in mock outrage at his husband.

 

Dean found himself grinning sappily as he started the car. The air was filled with the buzz of contentment as they playfully bickered.

 

It had been three years since Castiel, his angel, and partner at the Paranormal Homicide Division had made him the happiest man on earth and married him. They had just come off of a rough case, not difficulty solving wise, but in brutality. A newlywed couple-murder suicide due to novice spell casting. The whole thing had been ridiculously tragic, all caught on film in an attempt at a homemade sex tape. Hoping to spice things up, Mr. Thomas Byers willingly participated in indulging his wife in some breath play aided by a potion in a book she had no business dabbling in. It was supposed to make her more dominant, but unfortunately, it affected more than just her attitude. Lynne Byers became, according to the toxicology done on her body, almost superhuman in strength due to the increase of testosterone in her system. That mixed with the other ingredients made a dangerous psychedelic cocktail. Dean and Castiel had watched on the DVD as her eyes had glowed an unearthly violet as she proceeded to choke the life out of her husband of two months. Mrs. Byers continued to ride poor Thomas, writhing naked on his still form chasing her release as she used the pink silk scarf tied and twisted around his neck as anchoring reins. She kept a rapid pace until suddenly locking up, falling forward and passing out in her dead husband’s neck after climax.

 

The DVD had continued, showing the woman wake up and become hysterical as it became clear what she had done. Then, her eyes had hollowed, turning dead and blank as she picked up her cell phone with a trembling hand. Lynne Byers called 911 where she promptly confessed what she’d done before pulling a gun out of the nightstand and eating it.

 

Dean had been sick, a feeling echoed by his then partner and fiance. As soon as the last report for the case was filed, they took off for a few days, dragging Sam, Gabriel, and Charlie with them to Las Vegas for some gambling fun and booze. Anything to drown out the horrible images in their heads.

 

Neither one of them had planned on getting married in front of a badly impersonated Elvis.

 

When Castiel had proposed on the hood of the Impala under a meteor shower on a hot, August night three years ago, he had merely beaten Dean by a day. Both hiding rings in separate pairs of socks, both trying to find the right moment. Dean had been planning on asking Castiel during a picnic while visiting his favorite Bee farm, but Castiel had been counting on that clear night with silver trails streaking the sky. He had planned the route to the abandoned field where they would sit on the hood of the car still warm from the engine and drink pink Moscato, the only wine Dean really liked, out of red solo cups. The sweet, stuttered request from Castiel for Dean to please share eternity with him, complete with a gunmetal colored tungsten ring inscribed with the words _Forever, My Love,_ had made him cry tears of joy and after many salt-laced kisses, Dean had hopped off of the hood of the car to the grab the ring- _still in the sock-_ he had stashed in the glove compartment for the next day. Castiel had laughed, loud and euphoric as Dean pulled out a nearly identical ring with the script _Love You Forever_ etched on the inside.  

 

They’d discussed a small, intimate wedding held at Dean’s mother’s house, in the white gazebo in her garden with fairy lights strung about. Instead, they’d said _I do_ In the _Hunka Hunka Burning Love Chapel_ on the strip with no regrets, happy to leave the dream wedding to Sam when his time came.

 

Dean glanced at Cas’ profile as he pretended to look out the window, annoyed, all the while lacing his hand with the one Dean wasn’t used to drive. Love swamped him, as it often did when looking at the otherworldly entity that he was blessed to call his own. The amount of gratitude he felt that Castiel had chosen to be earthbound, had chosen to live amongst the humans as opposed to keeping watch from above in heaven, was unfathomable. To think if he hadn’t, they never would have met.

 

Castiel, like many angels who lived in the mortal realm, worked in public service-his sister and brother choosing to work as healers, and he a detective and Dean’s partner at the precinct.  Fate was like that, Dean supposed. Though Cas’ brother, the archangel Gabriel, was a free spirit, His sister Hael had found her bondmate in human pediatric surgeon Kevin Tran.

 

Bondmates were rare amongst humans and angels, though not unheard of. It wasn’t just a trite, flowery term taken from bodice-ripping novels. It was a commitment deeper than any other. When a human and an angel chose to bond, it had to be willingly, with an open heart and through copulation. It was an epic, life or death decision one had to be sure of, for when an angel chose to bond with a human, they were also choosing to give up their immortality and forever tie their lives to their mate. In turn, the human's life extended to match their angels, whose lifespan would reach around one-hundred and fifty to One-hundred and seventy-five years old. The aging process would slow, and a mated human in their thirties would continue to look so, well into their sixties. It sounded very romantic, but the other side of the coin was that if one bondmate perished, the other did as well, within hours.  A bonded pairs’ heart could not withstand the despair of losing their love and would die, as they used to say, of languishment.

 

Dean rubbed his thumb on Cas’ knuckles as they drove and breathed in his husband’s heady scent of rain-soaked orange groves and earth as he mused. The possibility of his death causing Dean’s had kept the two of them apart for a long time, much to Dean’s dismay. For a long time, Castiel hadn’t been willing to risk the detective’s life on the chance that if Castiel went down in the line, so would Dean, leaving his brother and widowed mom Mary, alone. No argument Dean made seemed to work; like the reality that they were both in a high-risk job and couldn’t waste their lives waiting for something bad to happen, or the fact that very few things could actually kill an angel-mainly only a heart shot with a blade or bullet infused with angel grace, which was nearly impossible to lay hands on. Even earthbound angels were impervious to human forms of death. Still, when fear grips you, it isn’t always rational, and Dean went many months pining for what he considered ridiculous reasons, while Cas considered nothing ridiculous about keeping Dean alive, even at the expense of their happiness.

 

Dean and Castiel had clicked as partners right away, becoming best friends and so in sync that others on the force were in awe of how seamlessly they worked together.  It hadn’t taken long for that deep friendship to blossom into Dean being irrevocably in love. How could he not, with the fascinating combination of socially awkward, unerring kindness Castiel had alongside his badass bravery and sarcasm?

 

For a long time, Dean thought he pined alone. Until one night, when Dean nearly died and Cas hadn’t been quick enough to heal him, both chasing a lead in different parts of the town, like _Crossroads_ , _New_ _York_ was quite large.  Earthbound angels were excellent healers, but they were limited. They could cure a cold all day long, heal many broken bones, but life-threatening injuries were harder. Bringing one back from the brink of death could drain an angel for hours or days depending on how severe the injury. Unlike heaven based angels, they could not fly long distances either, just a mile or so was about as far as an earthbound angel could go. Dean could still remember the hot burning feeling of being shot in the back and the angel EMT Anael, who had begun to heal him. He remembered the frantic look in Castiel’s eyes when he’d come on the scene, dropping to his knees to aid the paramedic in healing and the cool static feel of angel grace coursing through his body and knitting his skin back together,

 

That evening when they were back at Dean’s apartment, freshly showered and lounging on the couch watching Doctor Sexy and Castiel had fallen apart.

 

_Aug 4 years prior_

 

“Castiel, you’re shaking. Are you okay?” Dean ran a hand down Castiel’s arm and cupped his jaw, tilting his head up to get a better look into his eyes. “Did you get hurt and I missed it?” Dean was getting nervous. Castiel usually tanned skin was pale and clammy and it looked as though he was struggling to regulate his breathing. Dean watched as the angel drew ragged breaths in and out, slowly finding a rhythm.

“You nearly died today,” The words came out in a harsh whisper and Dean smiled fondly, understanding now just how much he had scared his friend.

“Cas, buddy. I’m okay,“ Dean said softly, trying to reassure the angel and banish that terrified look from his impossibly blue eyes.

“No, Dean,” Castiel shook his head emphatically. “You almost _ceased_ to exist. I was late and if Anael hadn’t been there, you would have-you just-”

“Hey, shhh,” Dean tugged Castiel to him and enveloped him in his arms. Dean ran a hand up and down Cas’ back, hoping to soothe him. “It’s over now, okay? I’m fine.”

Castiel buried his face in the crook of his neck breathing deep and Dean was surrounded by citrus and earth. Castiel ’s fingers clutched at the back of Dean’s shirt as he continued to whisper reassurances in Cas’ ear. They rocked back and forth, slightly, and eventually, Cas’ tremors stopped.  When Cas eased back to look him in the eyes, Dean smiled at him encouragingly.

“You okay there, man?”

Castiel continued to stare for a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Dean’s in a chaste kiss.  Dean froze, stunned by the action. It was a sweet kiss, a barely there brush of lips but enough to set Dean’s nerve endings on fire. When their eyes met again, Cas looked mortified.

“Dean, I-I’m sorry-”

That was as far as he got before Dean pulled Cas’ face back towards him to do it all over again. Dean licked at the seam of Cas’ mouth and Castiel parted his lips with a sigh, easily granting Dean access. His tongue slipped inside to slowly tangle with Cas’. One of them mewled and Dean was pretty sure it was him, but couldn’t care less. Dean plundered Cas’ mouth, finally tasting what he’d been dreaming of for years. He tugged at Cas’ hair as their tongues continued to dance, and the angel made deliciously erotic sounds. Dean could have kept on kissing Castiel endlessly and it wasn’t until the air changed, charged with electricity, and Cas’ wings suddenly manifested, that he pulled back, astonished. They were arched high and shimmering. Glossy black wings like spilled ink with swirling shades of indigo when they caught the light from the tableside lamp.

Dean’s mouth dropped open in awe and he couldn’t stop his hands, already reaching out to touch. Castiel jumped back, horrified.

“Oh, no. No. no. no.”

“Holy shit, Cas!”

“No, no, no.”

“Dude… I can see your fucking wings!”

Castiel closed his eyes, his expression one of grief. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, and tucked his wings back behind him before they simply disappeared.

Dean, confused, stepped forward, but Castiel only backed away. “Why are you sorry, Cas? They’re fucking stunning. They look like silk. I don’t get it, why are you upset?”

Castiel opened his eyes and Dean could see nothing in the blue depths but despair and he felt his stomach drop, and asked, voice shaking, “Is something wrong? Are-are you sick or something?”

Castiel shook his head no and the tightness Dean’s chest loosened a little bit. “Dean...do-do you know what it means when a human can see an angel’s wings?”

Dean felt a slow smile steal across his face and he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little sheepish. “Well, I thought it meant that we were potential mates. That-that maybe you were in love with me?”

Castiel nodded, but Dean’s heart sank when he saw that his best friend looked anything but happy.

“And that makes you sad? Are you upset about loving me? Because I gotta say, Cas, I have been in love with you for a while now and it’s kind of disheartening that I’m on cloud nine right now, and you look like you’re at a funeral.” Dean tried to hide the hurt in his voice, which seemed to prompt Cas into action as he reached forward and grasped Dean’s hands.

“Dean,” Castiel began quietly. “I do love you. That was never more apparent to me than it was today, as I watched you lay on the ground, bleeding. I love you so much that it steals my breath. And the idea of forming a bond with you, of letting my grace merge with your magnificent, radiant soul…,” Cas bright blue eyes seemed to gleam as he spoke,  “it fills me with awe and joy.”

“Then what-”

“We can’t, Dean,” Castiel’s tone was firm and put Dean’s hackles up.

“But why? If you love me, and I love you...I don’t understand,” Dean’s momentary bliss at hearing Castiel confess his love warred with his frustration at what Cas was now denying him.

“It’s too dangerous, Dean. Our line of work... if something happened to me, you would die. Do you realize that? You wouldn’t just be sad, you wouldn’t just grieve. You would lay down, and within hours, you would die of a broken heart. I could never do that to you.”

Dean shook his head, “No. No Cas, you don’t get to just decide that we can’t be together because someday you might die and take me with you. People die every day,” Dean pointed out but it didn’t dissuade Castiel at all.

“And people who do the work we do have a greater risk than most,” Castiel pointed out gently. “Even angels. I will not be the reason your widowed mother and little brother lose you,” the angel’s voice was sharp and brooked no argument, but Dean didn’t care.

“That’s bullshit, Cas. Mom and Sammy would want us to be happy. You could die tomorrow by some freak with a stolen angel blade, or you could live forever, there is no predicting the future. But not being together because you’re waiting for it to happen? That’s no way to live,” Dean stalked forward and cupped Castiel’s stubbled cheeks. The angel closed his eyes at the touch before firmly grabbing Dean’s wrists and pulling his hands from his face.

“I will not be swayed on this, Dean,” Castiel’s words were firm and Dean was quite shocked with how resolved he seemed.

Dean cocked his head. “Is this because you're afraid of what will happen when I die? Are you afraid of leaving Hael and-”

“No, Dean. Well, of course, I would not want to put them through that, but I would see them again. Eventually, when it was their time to rest in heaven, I would see them. Time to angels is different. For us, a hundred years is merely a blink. But your family, Dean. Time is not a blink to them. They would suffer and ache for years if you perished because of me.”

Dean laughed, bitterly. “So I’m supposed to what? Just lock my feelings back up in a box and bury it? Pretend that I don’t want to run my hands through your hair and kiss you senseless? Just act like making you smile isn’t the best part of my day?”

“Dean, please. This is hard on me too,” Castiel pleaded with him, eyes wide and begging Dean to understand. He was too angry to even try.

“Really, Castiel? Because from right here it seems like you’re pretty cool with it,” Dean’s voice had risen and he found himself crossing his arms defensively.

“Do not mistake my composure for apathy,” Castiel said sharply and Dean watched as his eyes turned stormy. “ If you think that I don’t want you with every fiber of my being, you are unequivocally wrong. But we can’t. I will not be the one to take someone as precious as you are, as righteous, from this world. You need to let this go. As do I.”

Dean looked at Castiel, studying his face and feeling nauseous as he recognized that Cas would not be swayed on this. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he sank back down onto the sofa.

“Dean-” but Dean held up a hand, and shook his head. He braced his hands on his thighs, and rocked forward, needing a minute to find his chill.  Finally, he drew in a breath.

“Okay. I am going to let this go,” Dean said, pinning the angel with his unwavering gaze. “ For now. But we are not done with this conversation. I am going to give you some time to have your guilt-ridden freak out about what could happen, blah, blah, blah, but this,” Dean gestured widely between them,” is not over. And if I didn’t know you as well as I do, if I wasn’t aware of how utterly _stubborn_ you are, I would keep pushing. But because I DO know how stubborn you are, and I wouldn’t put it past you to seek a transfer, I am going to drop it.”

Castiel sighed, obviously grateful for the reprieve. “Thank yo-”

“Don’t thank me,” Dean bit out, more harshly than he intended, but fuck all, was he mad. “I am pissed off and horny, and so in love with you that I cannot _see_ straight. So do not thank me for letting you get away with this when we could be doing far more pleasurable things right now. So just sit your ass down and watch this fucking episode with me while I put my feelings in storage, asshole.”

 

_Present_

 

Things had been awkward with them for a while after that, as Castiel had proven that his will was strong and would not be denied. Not that Dean didn’t try changing his mind, because he did, multiple times, and it only led to fighting and harsh words. It eventually got to the point where Dean could only assume that his feelings for the angel were obviously much deeper than Cas’ were for him.

 

Of course, Dean was wrong. Castiel loved Dean with everything he was, down to his last celestial wavelength, he thought fondly. Everything had come to a head when the angel had met Dean and his brother Sam at the Roadhouse, a local bar and grille, for drinks. It was on the eve of Cas’ big date with fellow angel and detective, Balthazar Roche, it having been Cas’ brilliant idea that they start dating people in an effort to move on. When Dean first heard of Cas’ date he’d felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Like he’d lost the ability to breathe, and his heart...well, it was a feeling he never wanted to experience again.

 

Castiel, unbeknownst to Dean, had already decided that he would explain to his date that he’d made a mistake, having decided to stop torturing Dean and himself both by being apart. They’d sat at a table chatting when Sam had inquired about Cas’ date, asking Dean if he had the best friend stamp of approval. Dean had pasted on a smile all the while his insides were quaking with multiple emotions: Despair, grief, self-loathing, hopelessness, and utter pain. Dean remembered answering Sam, vaguely, saying how Balthazar seemed like a decent guy and how he only wanted to see Cas happy-all while a running mantra of _Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up_ went on loop in his head. He’d been drowning so thoroughly in his misery that it had taken him a moment to realize that something was wrong with Castiel. Dean had noted that Castiel’s face was paler than he’d ever seen it. His cobalt eyes were wide and almost fever bright and his expression was nothing short of anguished.

 

 _“Dean,”_ he’d whispered, pained and Dean had felt ashamed as it suddenly had clicked into place what was going on. Somehow, without being physical, they had become bonded. As a side effect, Castiel, who had looked at him with such open devastation, was feeling all of his feelings and there was nothing that Dean could do to stop the flow of his emotions from spilling over onto Cas. He’d been embarrassed that his unwanted affections were invading Castiel, but before he could even begin to apologize, Castiel had surged up, whispering: _my heart_ fervently, in the language of the angels before claiming Dean’s lips in a soul-shaking kiss.

 

Later, they would realize that Dean could now understand Cas’ native tongue of Enochian because not only were they bondmates, they were even more spectacularly, true mates as well. Cas’ brother Gabriel had explained that while most people, be they angels, humans, vampires, seelies, werewolves, had many potential soulmates in the world,  in extremely rare cases, there were those who only had one. One true love they were meant to be with on the whole of the earth. To actually find that person was nearly unheard of. Dean thanked God every day that he’d found Castiel.

 

It had been quite extraordinary to realize that they had been feeling the effects of the bond for a long time and not realizing it. Bondmates shared strong emotions: _Anger_ , _joy_ , _sadness_. Dean had only been able to assume that the reason Dean and Castiel hadn’t realized what had happened sooner was because they had both been so disheartened by their own situation, that neither realized that the bouts of grief and sadness they had were more than likely shared. It had never occurred to Dean that those times he felt like dying because he couldn’t have the one he loved, that he was also feeling Cas’ pain as well. The angel was a pro at stoicism that was often mistaken for a lack of empathy. Dean would never have guessed because unless Castiel wanted to show him, those feelings would have been guarded under a metaphorical lock and key. A selfish part of him had been relieved to know that he had not been suffering alone, and Dean had long let go of the guilt of that, at Castiel’s request.

 

Dean paused at a red light, smiling as Castiel side-eyed at him, as though wondering what he was thinking so hard about. Dean had gotten much better at controlling his emotions over the last few years. In the beginning, every feeling he had was practically broadcasted as though Castiel was reading from his diary. Gabriel had told him once that angels were used to keeping their emotions in check, while humans ran hot. Initially, Dean was an open book, whereas he could only feel Cas if they were being intimate. Gradually he was able to feel Cas beyond the bedroom when his emotions were high enough. About a year after they’d consummated they’d pretty much perfected a true mate perk: _telepathy_. They’d certainly copped that one out of the goodie bag. It took concentration and focus, but Dean could send his husband messages, with words or images.

 

 _In fact,_ Dean thought with a smirk as the light turned green, _let’s see if this can get a reaction._ Dean pictured his angel stretched out on their bed with his legs spread wide. A pillow elevated him and his knees were hooked over strong forearms. Dean imagined thumbing him open, revealing his dusky pink hole.

 

“That’s enough of that,” Castiel said sternly, though his voice held a hint of liquid smoke, “for one: butter hands. Anything other than lube, wing oil or your tongue, is not allowed in my anus.” Dean snorted in amusement. “Two: Our nephew is asleep in the back seat. Time and place, _ol_ _monons_. And three: We have to pack.”

 

Yes, they did. They were going on a vacation. An honest to goodness vacation in Maui. Nothing but sand, surf, and sex for the next two weeks straight. Their honeymoon, so spur of the moment, had only been a few days at the Grand Canyon at the aptly named _Bright Angel Campground._ It was nearly their anniversary and the pair had been trying to plan a trip ever since their short honeymoon. Only every time they seemed to pick a date, a case would come up. It was beginning to feel like a conspiracy, and they’d had to content themselves with little weekend getaways here and there over the past few years.

 

 _Not this time. This time there was an oceanside villa and non-refundable tickets,_ he thought to himself as he turned left onto Oliver’s street. If Dean wanted to ride Castiel like a cowboy on a bucking bronco in the middle of the day on their private beach, he was sure as hell gonna. A quiet little growl next to him, accompanied by fingers clenching against his own told Dean he’d broadcasted that image quite effectively.

 

After carrying Oliver inside to his grateful and waiting parents, Dean pulled into the driveway of their little yellow Cape with the robin’s egg blue door. Castiel cleared his throat, though it did nothing to ease his sandpaper-roughened voice.

  
“ _Ahmm_ , perhaps we _could_ start packing a bit later?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Son of a bitch!” The curse was sharp and biting as Dean agitatedly tugged at his own hair in frustration.

 

Castiel stabbed another spear of broccoli in his kung pao chicken, chewing on it thoughtfully as his husband ranted and paced the floor.

 

“Oh, sure. We’ll just cancel our trip. _Again_. Never mind it’s non-refundable and we haven’t been away together in three years, but oh yeah. It’s totally fine.”

 

Castiel took a swig from his water bottle as Dean’s eyes lit on his, flashing emerald fire which he met head-on. Cas stretched lazily on the couch, still feeling sated and loose-limbed from the energetic romp they’d had in the bedroom after bringing Oliver back and returning home. Dean had groomed Castiel’s wings, releasing his oil, which was then used to shine his feathers, massage his muscles and stretch his rim. Cas’ body had been reduced to a pliant puddle, the slow, lazy rocking to orgasm leaving him shuddering in satisfaction to the point where he’d dozed off, only waking when the order from _Happy_ _Garden_ had arrived.

 

As Dean looked at him expectantly, Castiel reached into the container on the coffee table, plucking an egg roll and presenting it to Dean.

 

“Hungry?” Castiel asked and nearly laughed at the baffled ire on Dean’s face.

 

“Are you not even the slightest bit upset about this? Don’t you even care?” The wounded tone in Dean’s voice diffused the humor that Castiel was feeling.

 

“Of course I’m upset, Dean. I have been looking forward to our time away together immensely. I had many, _many_ plans for what I wanted to do with you,”   _And to you_ , he thought to himself as he took in Dean’s form.  His scowling cupid’s bow mouth only accentuated his gorgeous cheekbones as Dean stood shirtless in only a pair of plaid pajama pants. His golden freckles made constellations on his silky skin, dusky nipples still kiss swollen, and purple bruises littering the smooth column of Dean’s throat from where Castiel had bitten and sucked… _oh yes_. There was plenty of things that Castiel had planned on doing to his husband’s delicious body.

 

Dean’s eyebrows winged up as he seemed to catch a little bit of the dark, possessiveness Castiel was feeling as he blatantly dragged his eyes over the detective’s body.

 

“Cas…” it came out as more of a question and the angel forced himself to lift his gaze from the barely there happy trail he’d found his eyes following, to lock on Dean’s moss green irises. He sighed.

 

“Dean, if I let myself get worked up, all that will do is create a feedback loop of extreme agitation when you are already expressing enough anger and frustration for the both of us,” he said matter of factly and Dean gave a little bark of laughter, shaking his head as the wind appeared to leave his sails. Dean snatched the egg roll out of Castiel’s hand and threw himself down on the couch next to him and taking an aggressive chomp out of the deep-fried appetizer.

 

“S’not fair,” Dean mumbled over a mouthful of shredded cabbage and pork. Castiel passed Dean his water and watched with affection as he gulped down a quarter of the bottle. “The way you’re still so much better at controlling your emotions.”

 

It was true. Being bond-mated, but especially with your true mate, meant navigating many shared emotions, especially strong feelings brought on by joy, sadness, anger, and lust, the latter being the one Castiel struggled the most with controlling. Mainly because with the others, there had been practice. Lessons that began from the moment he’d left his clutch. But there was no lessons for fledglings on what the feeling of callused fingers trailing down his skin would evoke, or how the love of his life tending to his wings would stir his heart until it tripped and stuttered with emotion, washing over them the way a wave crests and breaks against beach rock, drenching them both in shared sensation.

 

“It’s not a competition, Dean,” Castiel says, laughing when Dean gave an inelegant snort in response.

 

“Easy for you to say when you’re winning,” he grumbles but Castiel is happy to feel most of the anger drain out of his husband’s body.

 

“Well, _ol monons_ , think of it this way. We were getting away for two weeks, but now after this favor for Crowley…” Castiel watched as a slow smile emerged on his human’s face.

 

“A whole month with just us. I don’t know how the fuck Crowley got the owners to agree to just hold the booking for us indefinitely. They must be losing a shit-ton of money.”

 

“Or he’s just paying them anyway. The Commissioner is very well-off. I’m sure covering our trip-”

 

“That he fucked up,” Dean interjected, and Cas rolled his eyes fondly.

 

“That he fucked up,” Castiel amended, “is just a drop in the bucket for him. He has had quite a few years to acquire wealth,” the angel reminded Dean. Commissioner Fergus Crowley was a former demon, who had put himself through the Demon outreach program over fifty some odd years ago. It was an intense procedure for those who wanted to regain their humanity. Demons who went through with it would be injected with purified blood over a period of time, and those strong enough to handle the guilt and shame that usually came along with the regaining of their soul, would go through heavy rehabilitation before being released into society and made to go to mandatory counseling until a healthcare professional deemed them sound enough to stop. Unfortunately, many were not able to make it through, either slipping up and being caught and killed. But those that were able to make a go of it, were considered to be especially strong and brave individuals. Though Crowley was abrasive and snarky, Castiel had great respect for the man and he knew Dean did too. He also knew that the former demon would not have called in a favor such as this without a good reason.

 

“ He wouldn’t even get into to it over the phone,” Dean griped as he finally settled down next to Castel, picking up his own container of Egg fu yung. “I mean, what exactly are we even supposed to be doing?”

 

“I suppose we’ll find out in the morning,” Castiel said and Dean sighed.

 

“Goodbye, sun and sand. Hello, 8 am briefing.”

* * *

  
Castiel and Dean strode into the precinct, making their way through the hubbub of the bullpen, and headed down the small corridor that led to their shared office. The smell of printer ink, baked goods, and stale coffee were comforting and familiar, though Castiel wouldn’t trade his extra large _Dunkin_ _Donuts_ for the bitter coffee cart swill even if someone paid him in rubies and sapphires. He had standards. Dean, on the other hand, was not nearly as discerning, and would go through pot after pot while working a case, and would no doubt have an ulcer or two if it weren’t for Castiel’s healing influence.

 

No one stopped them as they passed, though a few curious glances were shot their way; no doubt questioning why they weren’t at home, packing for vacation. It was 7:50 when they arrived at the office and Dean leaned against the wall as Castiel dug in his trench coat pocket for the key. He opened the door, flicking on the light as he went in. The air was warm, carrying the faint, lingering scent of old coffee and Dean’s sandalwood aftershave. They barely had time to remove their jackets before The Commissioner and Lieutenant Robert “Bobby” Singer entered the room.

 

Castiel wondered if they had come in together. The pair had a unique relationship. When Dean’s Uncle Bobby started dating again, the family had been thrilled. When he showed up at Castiel ’s now Mother-in-law Mary’s family dinner with Crowley as his guest, it was a bit of a shock. But the couple worked, it had been plain to see. They also managed to maintain a level of professionalism at work that Castiel and Dean hadn’t quite been able to. No one looking at the Commissioner and the Lieutenant interacting would ever guess that they shared a home, a bank account and a surly old dog named Rumsfeld.

 

Not that Dean and Castiel flaunted their relationship; but when you were considered the top investigators of the Paranormal Homicide Division and you shared a last name, it was unavoidable for home and work to overlap sometimes. It didn’t make a difference though. Being married didn’t prevent Dean and Castiel from being the most intimidating interrogation team. Especially when they broke out the silent communication, or better: when Castiel spoke Enochian, which thanks to their true mate bond, Dean was able to speak and understand.

 

Even looking at the Commissioner now, he seemed completely unfazed and polished in his black on black three-piece Armani suit, which contrasted just slightly with Lieutenant Singer’s rumpled Macy’s special of brown trousers, blue dress shirt, and coffee stained striped tie.

 

Neither Castiel nor Dean spoke. Instead, they stood, Dean’s arms folded and himself at parade rest waiting for Crowley to begin.

 

“Hello, boys,” Crowley began in his smooth cultured tone, “I appreciate you taking the time.”

 

Dean snorted. “Not like we had much of a choice.”

 

Bobby’s eyes flashed to Dean’s, the man who he had practically raised as a son when John Winchester passed and raised his brows in warning. “Watch it, boy. We ain’t home right now.”

 

Castiel watched his husband fight the urge to roll his eyes, swallowing back a no doubt snarky reply, and instead nodded his head, apologizing.

 

“Sorry. Go on, sir.”

 

Crowley edged a hip on the corner of Dean’s desk. “If I had any other team that could handle this as quickly and discreetly as you lot, I would have put them on this. As it is, you are both uniquely qualified for this particular case.”

 

“Sir, I have to ask, why is this the first we are hearing about it?  Any Paranormal based homicides, certainly Dean and I would already be aware and would have assigned diligently to the most capable team in our department,” Castiel said, earning himself a nod from Crowley.

 

“Normally, yes Castiel, that would be the case. However, this technically isn’t in our jurisdiction.”

 

Well, that was not the answer Castiel was expecting, and he glanced over at Dean, seeing that he too was intrigued.

 

“For this particular case, you’ll be traveling to Newport Rhode Island,” Bobby said as Crowley reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to Castiel.

 

 _Bare Your Soul Couples Retreat._ A man and woman embracing under the partial shade of a tree, sun-dappled patterns splaying across the white lace of her summer dress, smiled up at him from the glossy cover. Castiel felt Dean’s warm breath as he leaned over Castiel’s shoulder to get a peek. Words in elegant font danced across the page: _Therapy, Trust Exercises, Communication Building, Mapping your partner through Intimacy, Team Building for a Successful Marriage, Love through Nature._ Castiel felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

 

“So, when you say traveling, you mean-”

 

“Boot Camp,” Dean interrupted grimly. “He’s sending us to Marriage Boot Camp, Cas.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

“You and Castiel will be going undercover as a couple trying to regain the spark in your marriage,” Crowley said with a bit of a smirk as if anyone who had seen them together outside of work would ever wonder if their spark was gone.

 

“How long have we been married? Five years? Ten?” Dean asked and Crowley shrugged.

 

“I’ll leave that up to you and feathers here to work out the details. It’s not as though you’ll have to undergo a background check. The owner is a friend of mine and the one who called me about having someone investigate.”

 

Dean raised a brow. “If the owner is the one who wants the investigation, why isn’t she working with the locals?”

 

“Because she wants this done discreetly and trusts that I will make it so. I am trusting the  _ two of you _ to make it so.  _ Bare Your Soul Couples Retreat  _ isn’t just a business to Juliet. It’s her pride and joy and she believes in her mission,” Crowley straightened up from the desk and began to pace slowly.  

 

“What exactly  _ is _ happening at the retreat, Commissioner?” Castiel asked with a tilt of his head, notebook out and at the ready. 

 

“They’re being termed accidental deaths by misadventure.”

 

“So the police  _ are _ involved,” Dean said quizzically, noting his husband mirroring his expression.

 

“Eh, to a point. None of the deaths have happened on the actual grounds of the retreat. Both times it was during a couple’s solo trip out together and both times at night.”

 

“Solo as in individually or solo as in without the group,” Dean asked, wanting clarification.

 

“Solo without the group. Juliet said the program often encouraged date nights, exploring the local town life and getting out and being active with each other. Stargazing on the beach at night was a pretty popular activity. The first victim supposedly drowned while her husband slept off some champagne on a blanket on the sand. The second victim was found at the bottom of _Anastasia’s_ _Bluff_ and her wife was discovered passed out a quarter mile away along the trail to the cliffside. Toxicology found three times the legal limit of alcohol in her system.”

 

“Sorry, but I am not hearing what about these deaths screams paranormal murder,” Dean said as respectfully as he could. “What exactly makes you think this is our kind of thing instead of some tragic drunken accidents?”

 

Crowley adjusted his tie as he looked Dean in the eye. “Because the spouses left behind have no recollection of even being married and are currently being held under psychic evaluation .”

 

Ouch. Dean couldn’t even imagine waking up and having no idea who Castiel was. Just the thought of it made his gut clench.  He didn’t need to see the stricken look on Cas’ face to know the thought of that scenario made him just as sick. 

 

Dean blew out a breath, shaking his head. “And the Newport police don’t think their Paranormal division should be looking into this?”

 

“The idjits don’t  _ have _ one,” Bobby said with a hint of derision. “Whenever they suspect it might come into play, they usually outsource to the Boston PHD.”

 

Dean locked eyes with Cas, seeing that the angel was just as confused as he was.

 

“Then why aren’t they doing that now?” Castiel asked, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing in a way that let Dean know it had gone lukewarm. He rolled his eyes in amusement as he watched a faint glow enveloped the cup. Castiel rarely wasted his grace on trivial tasks, but Dean knew his husband took his caffeine very seriously.

 

“Juliet didn’t want the attention of having two out of states cops traipsing around her retreat, which it would surely cause,” Crowley said as if that explained everything. “She prides herself on her discretion when it comes to her clientele.” 

 

“ _ O-kay _ …,” Dean said, drawing out the word. “And since when do civilians get to pick and choose who investigates possible crimes where they and their business are involved?”

 

Crowley grinned, ferally. “Since she is a personal friend of the Commissioner of _Crossroads_ , _New_ _York_ ,” the former demon said with a finality that let Dean know there would be no further explanation forthcoming.

* * *

 

  
  


“So what do you think their deal is? Crowley and this Juliet?” Dean asked as he perused over the victim's autopsy reports.

 

“I don’t know,” Castiel replied, not looking up as he was going over the psych evaluation of victim number one. “I imagine whatever their relationship, it must be fairly intimate to allow for this kind of string-pulling,” he said and Dean grunted in agreement.

 

Dean picked up the retreat pamphlet off of his desk and flipped to the back, noting the contact information.   _ Juliet Wolfe: Owner and director and licensed therapist.  _ “Hmm. Let’s just see what Google has to say about you,” Dean murmured to himself as he opened chrome on his desktop. Thank God they’d finally replaced the ancient HP’s the department had been stuck with. No more freezing, no more blocked web pages.

 

Dean typed in Juliet’s full name and gave a soft  _ “Haha!” _ of success as a bio pop up immediately.

 

“Hey, Cas, listen to this,” Dean said, reading from the screen,  _ “Juliet Wolfe. Professional Familiar with a Master of Arts degree in Marriage and Family Therapy from Stony Brook University in NYC, New York. Licensed marriage and family therapist and certified addiction professional in New York, and an internationally certified alcohol, blood moderation, and drug counselor. Juliet served as a therapist at the Demon Outreach Program in Crossroads New York, where she specialized in treating demons working to regain their souls from 1967 until 2003,”  _ Dean sat up straight, “Christ, how old  _ is  _ she _? _ ” he muttered to himself before continuing, “ _ when she took a brief sabbatical before moving permanently to Newport Rhode Island in 2005 and opened the Bare Your Soul Couples Therapy Retreat, where she and a highly trained staff specialize in emotionally focused therapy,  to help couples improve their relationships,”  _ Dean looked over at Cas who had a pensive look on his face.

 

“Do you think she was Crowley’s therapist?” Castiel asked, leaning back in his chair and still holding the manilla file folder with the Newport County Hospital’s psych eval in it.

 

“Maybe,” Dean said with a nod. “But what the hell is a  _ Professional Familiar _ ?”

 

Castiel put down the folder and stood up to stretch, arms extended towards the ceiling, making his dress shirt become untucked just enough for a sliver of tanned skin to show. Dean swallowed hard and berated himself for not being able to look at his husband for more than two minutes without some sort of sexual thought flitting across his mind- _ like the taste of smooth, salty skin _ \- and laughed at the knowing look Castiel shot him.

 

“You’re incorrigible,” Castiel said with an arched brow that never failed to pique Dean’s submissive side. “A Professional Familiar is a type of therapy companion. Some Familiars who never find their own Witch will volunteer to work as a service companion in their animal form. And to answer your age question, she could feasibly be over one-hundred years old. Once past puberty, Familiars age at half the rate as humans.”

 

“Huh. Anything useful in those evaluations on the spouses?” Dean asked, nodding his head towards the papers now laying on Cas’ desk.

 

“Nothing we can really use, though I suggest finding a way to speak to them if we can. I don’t know how cooperative everyone is going to be. You know how the locals get when out of state help is called in, especially when it’s not who they’re used to working with, “ Cas shook his head, running careless fingers through his hair and giving it that just out of bed tousled look that Dean enjoyed so much. “According to this, the first vic’s husband seems on the up and up. The memory loss does not appear to be faked, but no scans can show any reason for why it’s occurred, no blunt trauma or obvious injury. The analysis suggests it could have been brought on by the shock of witnessing the death of their loved one. I imagine the second report will say the same.”

 

Dean raised his brows in surprise. “Can that even happen?”

 

“It’s not as common, but emotional or psychological trauma can also affect your memory. Memory loss is a natural survival skill and defense mechanism you humans develop to protect yourselves from psychological damage,” Castiel informed him and Dean smirked.

 

“Us humans, huh?”

 

Cas cocked his head at Dean, leveling him a stern look before he continued.  “Witnessing or being subjected to violence, sexual abuse, any severely emotional traumatic events, really, can lead to dissociative amnesia, to help a person cope by suppressing memories of the traumatic event until they are ready to handle it if they are ever able too.”

 

It was quiet for a beat.

 

“Or it’s just some paranormal beach dwelling sea monster who sucked their memories out like a Slurpee,” Dean said with a shrug.

 

Castiel shot him with a finger gun.

 

“Or that.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  


“I really, _really_ don’t want to do this.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes in fond amusement as Dean braced his forearms on the hood of the Impala, a sulk gracing his pretty face.  Brows furrowed and cupid’s bow lips drawn up in a pout, he glared at the unassuming brick building as if it had personally affronted him. Cas tapped the roof and extended his hand in the _gimme_ motion for Dean to slap the keys into his palm.

 

Castiel opened the trunk and pulled out their luggage; two small suitcases and a field kit hidden inside of a duffel bag. Cas shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun and surveyed the area. It really was beautiful. It was hot, but breezy due to the proximity to the ocean. Cas could scent a hint of salt and coconut on the air.  

 

The grounds of the retreat were meticulously manicured and lined with flowering shrubs and strategically placed stone benches. The two-story building had tinted windows and Castiel wondered if the patron’s quarters were in the building itself or separate. He supposed they would soon see.

 

“Stop pouting, Dean. Our meeting with Ms. Wolfe is at precisely 4 pm which gives us…” He glanced at his watch, “about five minutes.”

 

Dean sighed painstakingly, mumbling about tropical drinks with little umbrellas and making Cas’ lips twitch as he fought back a smile. Dean grabbed his suitcase and the duffel before Castiel could, leaning in to snag a quick kiss as he did so.

 

“I’ll say this,” Castiel’s husband said with a lascivious grin, “You are rocking the whole Mr. Roger's sweater vest thing,” Dean eyed him up and down.

 

Castiel wrinkled his nose, a move which always turned Dean’s eyes soft and said smartly, “I’m not sure I am comfortable with you sexualizing a children’s entertainer,” he said in mock offense and Dean laughed as he’d hoped he would.

 

“You mean you don’t want to be my neighbor?” he said with waggling brows and Castiel snorted.

 

“Stop stalling, assbutt, and let’s get this over with.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. The quicker we solve this thing, the quicker we get to drink cocktails out of coconut shells on our private beach.”

 

Dean locked the car and they headed up the walkway to the front of the building. Castiel appreciated the view in front of him. Dean was dressed in faded blue jeans that accentuated his strong bowed legs and a _Led_ _Zepplin_ shirt that Castiel had a habit of stealing for bedtime and lazy days off. Dean’s cover was a Mechanic, the mock paperwork they had filled out listed him as an employee of their friend Ash who owned a repair shop. Castiel, dressed in tan khaki pants and a maroon sweater vest over a short-sleeved baby-blue polo shirt, had chosen Theology Professor as an occupation, both of them deciding to stick with things they could speak about comfortably if asked.

 

When they reached the automatic glass doors, Dean reached out and hit the buzzer.

 

“Welcome to _Bare Your Soul Couples Retreat._ How may I direct you?” came a soothing voice from the speaker. Castiel had to wonder if the receptionist was chosen for her calm tone intentionally, to settle the nerves of anxious clients.

 

Dean cleared his throat before pressing the button again.  “Dean and Castiel Winchester. We’re expected to arrive today.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“Oh, yes. I have you right here. I’ll buzz you in.”

 

The door slid open to reveal a large lobby featuring a deep gray sectional bookended by large ferns. A low, rectangular glass coffee table sat in front of the sofa with a variety of magazines scattered across the surface.  Underneath one of the tinted windows was a Poland Springs bubbler. The air piping in from the vents was cool and held a hint of eucalyptus.

 

Cas followed across the navy Berber rug as Dean zeroed in on the woman behind the check-in desk. He had to give her credit, she hid her appreciative expression quickly, replacing it with a professionally cool smile. Dean, being accustomed to such looks on a regular basis merely smiled charmingly and gave the woman their information.

 

“Hi there. We’re checking in,” Dean reached his luggage free hand out, arm snaking around Castiel’s waist and tugging him close. When the receptionist’s eyes flitted over Cas, he saw the interest in her gaze flare again as she appraised them both. He coughed uncomfortably and Dean spoke again. “Should be a reservation under Winchester.”

 

“Yes, sir, I pulled your information before I buzzed you in. If you’d be so kind as to wait over there, I’ll call you when Ms. Wolfe is ready to see you.”

 

They had barely even sat before they were being told to go down the hallway and take their first right. First look at Juliet Wolfe showed a formidable woman with squared shoulders and dark blonde hair in a no-nonsense bun. Her eyes, however, were soft and golden, reflecting genuine welcome.

 

“Detectives,” Ms. Wolfe began warmly, holding her hand out to shake.

 

“Dean,” his husband said, clasping her hand briefly.

 

“Castiel,” Cas said, shaking her hand firmly.

 

“Thank you so much for coming,” Ms. Wolfe said, “I’m aware that this cut into some plans of yours, so I’m all the more grateful.”

 

“The Commissioner wouldn’t have sent us out here for no reason, Ma’am, and we are more than happy to help in any way we can,” Castiel said soberly.

 

“Won’t you please sit down,” she said, gesturing to two cushioned chairs across from her desk.

 

I have to ask,” Dean remarked as he settled into the chair. “won’t your receptionist think that it is strange that the owner wants to see us before we check in?”

 

Ms. Wolfe laughed, a raspy, barking sound befitting of her name. “No. I make it a habit to meet with any couples before they begin their stay. I like them to know how seriously I take my work and how much the staff here really wants to help and see each pair grow and succeed in their relationship goals.”

 

“It’s an admiral service your providing, Ma’am,” Dean said with an easy smile and she laughed again.

 

“A service you think is bullshit, but your willing to play anyway because your sense of justice won’t let you say no?” she asked, amused and Castiel felt his lip quirk up in a smile.

 

Dean shrugged good-naturedly. “That, and Commissioner Crowley is sorta-kinda family now and we can’t get out of seeing him in our professional or personal life anymore,” Dean answered with a grin and Castiel cleared his throat.

 

“Ms. Wolfe, we’ve read through the files on the victims. Are we right to assume that the couples all followed the same schedules?” Castiel asked, pulling up the notebook app on his phone.

 

“They are all pretty similar, though there are elective activities as well, such as couples massage, or horseback riding on the beach. Cribbage tournaments and cooking class. We offer quite a few activities that our guests can do together, to help them strengthen their bond and reconnect.”

 

Castiel looked at Dean from under his lashes as he felt a flare of warmth from his husband at the word _bond_.

 

“And the date nights. Does the retreat organize those, or…” Dean trailed off and Ms. Wolfe shook her head no.

 

“There are no assigned nights, we leave that up to the couples, though we do offer a list of popular locations in the area, restaurant suggestions, special events around town, things like that.”

 

Castiel tapped on his keypad.

 

_Same basic schedule_

_Unscheduled date nights_

 

“ How long is a couple’s usual stay here? Can you tell us how a couple’s day to day experience would go here? ” Castiel asked, looking up from his screen.

 

Ms. Wolfe nodded, steepling her fingers, elbows resting on her desk. “Stays vary in length. For some, it’s a just a week. A quick rejuvenation, if you will. For others, they might stay for a month. It depends on the severity of the breakdown in a couple's relationship and how committed they are to working on it. Every case is as different as we are,” She said with a smile. “Breakfast is available in the dining hall from 7:30 am until 9:30. Guests aren’t required to go, but most do since meals are provided in the price of their stay. Starting at 10:00 am a variety of groups meet. Group therapy where you’ll talk about why you are here; sharing is caring exercises.  Each day in group our couples discuss the previous day's highs and lows. After lunch, we have the Team Building workshop where you’ll try different communication exercises. The evening workshop focuses on intimacy,” Ms. Wolfe took a pamphlet off of her desk and handed it over to Dean who had reached out first.

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Does this say to come nude?” Dean looked down at the leaflet in his hand and Castiel leaned in so he could see as well.

 

“Yes,” Ms. Wolfe said, a hint of amusement on her angular face.

 

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so. In no way when I agreed to do this, did Crowley say we would have to parade around naked in front of a bunch of strangers.”

 

“Well...to be fair, it says it right in the name,” Castiel said stoically, a finger reaching out to trace over the word _Bare_ on the _Bare Your Soul Couples Retreat_ that was scrawled across th _e_ top of the pamphlet and Dean shot him an unimpressed look.

 

“Yeah, that’s a hard no.  No one sees under those clothes but me, sunshine,” Dean muttered at Castiel, earning himself an eye roll and a soft huff of laughter.

 

“I assure you, no one would make either of you participate in an activity that would make you uncomfortable. Many opt to go with a private session with one of our counselors to discuss these delicate issues as opposed to joining in the group activity.”

 

They asked a few more questions and Ms. Wolfe handed over their itinerary, as well as flyer featuring this week's local events and a small map of the retreat.

 

“Couples reside in their own fully equipped cabins. After you leave my office you will continue on down this hall and out the back door towards our grounds. You’ll find a golf cart waiting for you that should have enough room for your luggage. If you leave me your key, I will have the valet drop your car off in your cabin's lot sometime this evening.  The cabins are off of two trails; the Sun trail to the right and the Moon trail to the left. I have you both in the last cabin on the Moon trail. It's a little further back than the others and a bit more private, so I thought that would fit your needs better.”

 

Castiel couldn’t say he wasn’t appreciative of that. “Thank you, that was very considerate of you,” he said politely, earning him a pleased smile even as Dean grumbled about strangers touching his Baby.

 

“Dinner is offered from 4 pm until 8 pm in the onsite dining hall, though of course, you may choose to leave the grounds. We have twenty-four-hour security that will buzz you back in the building, just make sure you provide I.D. and your Cabin key card,” she handed a white keycard with the number seventeen on it next to the initials _MT_  to Castiel, which Cas could only assume stood for Moon Trail.

 

After shaking hands again, Ms. Wolfe thanked them again and urged Castiel and Dean to visit the restaurant after they settled in, and to rest up for the next day's activities.

 

“Even if you’re only here undercover, they can be pretty emotionally draining,” She said in warning.

 

“We’ll be alright, Ms. Wolfe. We’re not here for the marriage boot camp,” Castiel elbowed Dean sharply and the detective rolled his eyes. “We’re not here for the _therapy_ ,” Dean amended, “so I think we’ll be okay. But thank you.”

 

When they made their way out of the back of the building, the golf cart was there as promised, key already in the ignition. They loaded up the back with their two small suitcases and disguised field kit.

 

“You ready to check out our new digs, Mr. Winchester?” Dean asked with a raised brow.

 

Castiel nodded, leaning in for a quick kiss. “I’m ready,” Cas said, thinking that if he had to miss his dream vacation to investigate, at least it was by his husband’s side. He climbed into the driver's side of the two-person cart and started it.

 

“I say we unpack, shower and hit dinner. Try and get a feel for the place, maybe accidentally bump into some other couples.” Dean said as he climbed into the passenger's seat, the space tight enough that their knees budged up against each other.

 

Cas followed the packed dirt path down until the trail split. He took the left turn with the hand-painted sign of a crescent moon. He noted that there weren’t many trees lining the path, just a few interspersed here and there, but otherwise, the grounds were pretty, green, and open.

 

“Not much cover for clandestine activities,” Castiel remarked and Dean hummed in response.

 

“I was just thinking that. We’ll have to find some time to mosey on down the Sun trail, but yeah. I’m thinking if there actually _is_ some kind of cloak and dagger shit going on here, it’s probably not being done out here where anyone could peek out their cabin and see.”

 

The cabins were prefabricated,  blonde in color with green trim.  They weren’t much bigger than a classic hunting lodge and Castiel felt a pang for the private beach he was supposed to be lazing on with his husband and sighed. Dean looked at him knowingly and pressed a soft kiss to his hair as Castiel turned into site number seventeen, which was a little further back than the other cabins, which were only about 200 ft away from each other. Theirs gave them probably about an extra 70 ft of space on top of that away from the rest, but there would definitely not be any naked sunbathing happening at the _Bare Your Soul Couples Retreat._

 

Cas parked the cart and Dean looked around, giving a little forlorn sigh. “I suppose these things aren’t soundproof,” he said so mournfully that Castiel could not stop the bubble of laughter from coming out.

 

“I’m afraid not, my love.”

 

They climbed out the the cart and grabbed their luggage, Dean clutching the key card in his hand. “Well, let's see what we’re working with.”


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel smacked him upside the head when he tried to carry him across the threshold of their new _Ikea_ -esque dwelling.

 

“I’m sure it’s put together better than that video game rack you insisted we needed,” Castiel said drily, as they surveyed the room.

 

“Hey, do we or do we not host multiple game nights?” Dean shot back, an ache of fondness throbbing somewhere deep behind his ribs as he watched Castiel roll his eyes hard enough that it had to hurt.

 

When Dean and Castiel had first gotten together, they would take turns sleeping at either Cas’ house or Dean’s apartment.  Dean’s brother Sam, who had been in law school at Stanford, had transferred to NYU to be closer to Dean and their mother and had just moved in. As soon as Sam had picked up a job and a possible roommate-Castiel’s archangel brother Gabriel of all people, Dean had happily moved in with Castiel.

 

Dean loved living in a house instead of an apartment.  To Castiel’s delight, Dean had an affinity for gardening that matched the angel’s and such an eye for decor that he had to curb himself from teasing Dean about it, which he knew was hard for the angel considering all of the times Dean had made fun of the design shows on the Home and Garden network. Where Castiel’s backyard had used to just house a swing set for Ollie, Dean had turned it into a barbecuer's dream, complete with stone patio, benches, and a fire-pit. A large grill and outside bar with a sweet little vegetable garden with the best tomatoes ever-Dean will fight anyone who says otherwise. Sometimes Dean suspected that Cas used a little grace to help them grow, but that was neither here nor there.

 

Looking around their temporary living space made him long for his garden.

 

“Dude. What the hell?”

 

Castiel barked out a laugh at Dean’s distress.  The cabin had an open floor plan. It was very clean and on the right side of the room, there was a plush beige couch and an overstuffed armchair. They were sat in front of one of those click-button fireplaces that gave off minimal heat but looked pretty. The kitchen area was quaint, with a lemon yellow breakfast bar with matching stools. He could see from the open door, a decent sized bathroom with a walk in shower, but no tub. All of that wasn’t half bad.  He could happily deal with that. It was the two twin beds he took issue with.

 

“I call the left one,” Castiel teased.

 

“Hardy-fucking-har. How the hell are we supposed to sleep? Is this some kind of joke?”

 

Castiel ran a soothing hand down Dean’s arm which shouldn’t calm him so quickly, but it did.

 

“I imagine many couples who feel the need to come here for counseling may not be sharing a marriage bed. I’m sure we can figure something out, Dean. We’ll just have to be… creative.”

 

Dean wasn’t ashamed to say that he felt slightly mollified at the obvious sultriness infused in Cas’ tone, though his stoic face betrayed nothing. Dean felt the urge to break the facade, so he did, grabbing Castiel by the hips and tugging him forward. He swept in and stole a kiss, deep and dirty and wound up swallowing Cas’ unexpected moan with his own.  For a moment Dean allowed himself the indulgence, loving the feeling of shared need and want coursing through the both of them, before breaking apart, breath heavy as their foreheads rested together, green eyes locked on impossible blue.

 

“We should, _ahem_ , we should check in with Bobby,” Castiel murmured, breaking the silence, lips skimming Dean’s as he spoke. Dean nodded, and with one last hard press of lips backed away and pulled out his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans.

 

Castiel began unpacking their clothing into the small chest of drawers against the wall in between the twin bunks and Dean laughed under his breath when Cas triumphantly found an outlet for his phone charger.

 

Dean scrolled to Bobby’s number and it barely rang twice before the gruff man picked up.

 

“Winchester. You made it in good time, I see?”

 

Dean put the cell on speaker phone so Castiel could participate. “Yes, Lieutenant.  We met with Ms. Wolfe and talked a little about the program and got our itinerary. We’ll be heading out to dinner on site soon so we can get a look at the other guests. “

 

“First impressions?”

 

“Of Ms. Wolfe? Competent, sincere…” Dean looked over at Cas.

 

“She seems aware that these could genuinely just be unfortunate accidents, but cares enough to want to be sure,” Castiel paused in placing a pair of folded pajama pants in the top drawer, “ Ms. Wolfe was apologetic about calling in a favor, but insists she needed to make sure no one on her staff aided to any of these tragedies.”

 

“Yeah, Crowley said she’s a stand-up kind of woman,” Bobby interjected. “What about the place itself?”

 

“We haven’t seen much of it.  I can only imagine what it actually costs to stay here, though. It’s like high-end camping for the rich.  They probably decided to come here because they fight over who buys the wrong kind of caviar at home,” Dean said and Bobby snorted.

 

“That’s not fair, Dean,” Castiel reprimanded him. “Some of these people may have insurance that covers their stay, and even so, wealthy people have relationship issues same as your _‘Average_ _Joe’_ , “ Castiel said and Dean chuckled.

 

“I love that you air quoted _Average_ _Joe_ ,” Dean said, still laughing.

 

“I’m sure he was adorable, Dean,” Bobby said flatly, “but could we get back to the briefing?”

 

“Sorry, sir,” Dean bit out, still smiling. “I figure we need to compile a list of the current clients, find out how long they been here or if they are repeat patrons.  Ms. Wolfe said a couples’ stay varies, could be anywhere from one week to a month.”

 

“She also gave us a flyer, “ Cas cut it, “she said that the retreat often suggests places to go for nights out with their significant others. They have handouts of local town events. We’ll have to watch who’s pushing the stargazing at the beach option. Could be a guest and not a staff member, if it’s any of them at all.”

 

“Do you have any free time during the day tomorrow to check out the location of death?” Bobby asked and Dean picked up the itinerary he’d put on the breakfast bar.

 

“Not during the day, not with the workshops. We could check it out tonight, but I’d rather we explore around here first,” Dean said and Castiel nodded in agreement.

 

“Tomorrow night is soon enough,” Bobby said. “If I haven’t said it, I appreciate you boys doing this, even if you didn’t really have a choice.”

 

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Castiel said.

 

“On another note, what’s up Sam’s ass?  He was boohooing like a spoiled princess about me waking him up when I called this morning. Kid’s usually always up with the sun.”

 

“I think Frank has been keeping him awake the last couple nights. New girl moved into the building across from them and he’s been doing _surveillance_.” Frank Devereaux was Dean’s old neighbor-and conspiracy theorist extraordinaire. Frank was basically harmless and had even stumbled upon a drug scam a few years back with his unofficial investigating.

 

“Jesus Christ. What kind of surveillance? Breaking any privacy laws we need to be worried about?”

 

Dean snorted. “Probably, but none that we can see so far.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Bobby cursed again.

 

“We won’t let it get too far, I promise, and Sam knows what to look for.”

 

“Yeah, kids got a good head. Alright, I’m gonna let you boys go _socialize._ Keep me updated.”

 

“Will do,” Dean said, tossing the phone on one of the beds. He saw that Cas had unpacked both of their suitcases and was putting the last of their toiletries on the bathroom counter. Dean decided to try the local news when it occurred to him what was missing from the room, aside from an adult-sized bed. No television. “Marriage boot-camp sucks,” he grumbled to himself.

  


“Jesus,” Dean said under his breath as they entered the dining hall. “This is giving me the high school flashback from hell I never wanted.”

 

Castiel gave Dean’s hand a squeeze. “I would have liked to see you in high school,” his husband said and Dean could only scoff.

 

“If you knew me in high school, you would never have wanted to date me, let alone marry me, sweetheart,” Dean said as he perused the room. They had taken the golf cart, following the signs to the dining hall and that was exactly what it was. It was your standard tile floor, filled with octagon tables. There were trays, and stations to pick up an appetizer, main course, and dessert. At least the food smelled better.

 

“Why, were you a lothario?” Castiel teased, and Dean just smirked and gave a casual shrug as he led Castiel over to the brown plastic trays, handing one over before moving long to the first station.

 

“I’ll tell you what, though. My high school certainly didn’t offer stuffed mushroom caps and scallops wrapped in bacon,” Dean said happily as his stomach growled loud enough for Castiel to start snickering.

 

They headed over to the next station where there was a choice of steak and fingerling potatoes with broccoli, Fried Haddock with french fries and slaw,  or vegetable lasagna.

 

“Really, Cas? Free meal and you’re going with salad stuffed noodles?” Dean shook his head, disappointed as they headed to the table in the back, best for people watching.

 

“Zucchini and squash are hardly salad items, Dean,” Castiel said primly as he popped a toothpick skewered scallop into his mouth.

 

“I know,” Dean said softly, leaning in to kiss Castiel’s cheek. “I just like riling you up.”

 

“Shocker,” Cas’ dust-dry tone only made Dean smile wider and he had to force himself to remember why they were there in the first place. He hooked his ankle around Castiel’s under the table and felt his angel settle more firmly against his side.

 

“Quarter past seven, six other couples here,” Dean observed as he cut into his steak. “I wonder how many have already been and left.”

 

There were two couples who looked to be around Dean’s age, one couple looked too young to even be married, and the last two were an obvious May-December romance. He could see one of the couples- a blonde who’s stiff posture made her appear a bit icy and a tall dark haired man who seemed to have a permanent sulk. They didn’t even look at each other as they began eating and it kind of made Dean sad. How do you sit across from the person you’re supposed to love more than everything and not even meet their gaze? Dean glanced at Castiel and saw him watching the couple as well. Cas’ hand not holding his fork began to run patterns on Dean’s back.

 

“Sad, isn’t? How bad people can let things get?” the angel observed.

Dean leaned into the touch, taking comfort in Castiel’s unconscious show of support. He watched as the woman took a bite from her plate, and as she chewed her eyes shifted everywhere but to the man in front of her. The man was too busy eyeing the woman at the next table to even notice.

 

“I can’t imagine that ever being us, Cas,” Dean said softly. They sat quietly for a few moments, just watching until Castiel turned towards him, nosing at his jaw and pressing a kiss to his five-o’clock shadow.

 

“Let’s skip dessert,” Castiel whispered, voice carrying a hint of neediness. “We’re going to meet all of these people in the morning,”  Cas’ dragged his lips across Dean’s cheek until they skimmed his lips.

 

Dean’s breath hitched at the heat in Cas’ gaze and didn’t deny himself the pleasure picturing what they could be doing back in their cabin, visualizing it strong enough that Castiel gasped.

 

“Yeah,” came Dean’s ragged reply. “Yeah, let’s go.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Castiel felt eyes on him as he and Dean returned the trays and left the dining hall. A glance back showed the blonde woman and the brunet male following their path out of the room and made a mental note to pay attention to them during the group therapy in the morning.  

 

Dean laced their fingers together as they drove back to their cabin. There were no words spoken but heat swirled between them. Castiel saw flashes of color in his mind and feeling of yearning that stemmed from himself but was shared by his mate completely. Cas admired Dean’s profile in the late afternoon sun as he drove down the trail. He knew his husband could feel the weight of his gaze when he squeezed Cas’ fingers. The  _I love you_ whispered across his mind and Castiel sighed, burrowing in closer to Dean.

 

“You as well,  _ol monons_ , always,” Cas murmured, bringing their clasped hands to his mouth to brush his lips across Dean’s knuckles, gently.  Castiel shifted, and he could feel his wings aching to be released. The deep way that Dean inhaled next to him let Castiel know that he could smell Cas’ wing oil: orange, freshly turned earth, and rain wafting between them. He shuddered as he conjured up the delicious image of Dean’s clever tongue on his body, licking up his natural slick and Dean groaned next to him as their bond was open wide, giving him a front seat to Castiel’s lascivious thoughts.

 

Dean all but dragged him out of the golf cart when they arrived in front of their cabin, fumbling in his pocket for the key card as Castiel hooked his chin over Deans shoulder, his feverishly hot body draped over the detective’s back.  Cas sucked at the salty skin of Dean’s neck, leaving passion flushed bruises. As soon as Dean made it through the door Castiel was on him. Hands fisted in Dean’s burnt honey locks as he plundered his husband’s mouth. The kiss was dark and needy as they stumbled across the floor.  When the back of Dean’s leg hit the plush sofa, Castiel pushed him down onto it, just on the edge of being rough. With a snap of his fingers, Dean’s clothes and his own were gone, no doubt cascaded all around the cabin. Dean laughed, a raspy sound filled with humor and lust as Castiel rarely used his grace for menial tasks unless as overwhelmed as he currently was.

 

Cas felt his chest heaving as Dean stared up at him from the cushions, pupils blown wide.  Castiel didn’t know what he looked like, towering over Dean, skin damp with sweat, biting his lip as his wings begged to be released, but the want radiating from his husband said he liked it. He loved seeing Dean like this, eyes focused only on him, past the point where he could express himself in anything but unrestrained moans even though all they had done was kiss. Castiel relished making Dean whimper and beg and fall apart-safe in the knowledge that he’d always be there to catch him and piece him back together again.

 

 

 Castiel leaned forward from standing and trailed his hands down Dean’s strong shoulders, down the thin line of hair leading to his  _oh so pretty_ cock as it lay against his thigh, rapidly filling, plumping up right before Cas’ amorous gaze. Cas licked his lips as he grasped Dean underneath his knees, tugging him forward just a bit before straddling those strong thighs, looking down at him hungrily.  He lazily stroked at his own dick as he took in the view. Dean was a beautiful man, inside and out, something Castiel had recognized from the first second he saw him. He only got prettier when they were together like this; face flushed pink, lips bitten red, golden freckles standing out against the rosy hue of his cheeks. His moss green eyes reflected unconditional love tinged with lust and it made Castiel’s heart  _ache_ in the best way.

 

Dean shifted, sitting up so he could reach out, grabbing Castiel by the hips and the angel took the hint, settling his knees on either side of Dean and sitting in his lap.  Their hardening cocks brushed against each other and Dean let out a low groan that had a glob of precome oozing from the tip of Castiel’s flushed member.

 

Castiel looped his arms around Dean’s neck and pressed a teasing kiss to his mouth; just a chaste meeting of lips to say  _I love you_ and I don’t want to be anywhere else. Dean answered back with a whimper; gentle, calloused fingers now trailing paths up and down Castiel’s back, and flitting across his shoulder blades.  Cas pulled Dean’s full bottom lip in between his own and gently sucked on it, the innocent kiss from before now turned slow and deep. Castiel let himself get lost in the soft, wet drag of their lips and tongues against each other. When Dean dug his thumbs into the right spot, Castiel could no longer hold back and his wings burst forth, and they were suddenly both groaning low as static charged the room. Cas’ feathers spread, iridescent, changing from ink black to blue to purple in the tawny light of the sunset streaming through the windows. Castiel arched his neck as Dean trailed open-mouthed kisses down his throat, sucking at his Adam’s Apple while massaging his wing joints until the angel’s scented oil coated his fingers. Castiel didn’t need to be told to rise up on his knees, this was a familiar dance, well choreographed between two people who held mastery over each other’s bodies. As Castiel spread his legs, Dean’s oil slicked fingers circled his hole, tracing his pucker with trembling digits before dipping in. Dean expertly opened Castiel up, knowing instinctively when to stretch, and when to add another digit. Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s, soft puffs of warm air escaping from their mouths as Castiel rode back on Dean’s talented fingers, little gasps and broken moans filling the room.

 

When Castiel couldn’t take it anymore he merely thought  _pleasereadynow_ , and Dean removed his fingers and used his oil coated hand to stroke his own cock before Cas took it upon himself to welcome Dean’s hard shaft into his body. Dean tipped his head back on a ragged groan as Castiel sank down.

 

Dean was always gorgeous. But buried inside of Castiel? He was devastating.

 

Lips fused together again as they set a steady pace, Dean thrusting up as Castiel ground down. Soon the room became a concert of wicked, sinful sounds; the slap of wet skin, the tandem  _unh, unh, unh,_  of pleasure, the squelch of precome and wing oil both obscene and sensual. Dean's fingers buried in and tugged at Cas’ wings, punching out deep grunts out the angel. His husband soon had him arching on a harsh cry as Dean found the right angle that rubbed against Cas’ prostate deliciously,  spurning him to rock faster, movements uncontrolled. All thoughts left his head as Castiel rode his love hard, hands fisting in his hair tightly, with Dean answering by gripping Cas’ hip bones hard enough to bruise.

 

“Fuck.  _Fuck_ , Dean, I can’t…” Castiel’s brain seemed to go offline, but Dean knew what he needed anyway and Cas whimpered in relief as his husband’s palm began stroking his cock in fast, sure stripes.

 

By that point, they weren’t so much as pushing and pulling as much as they were grinding against each other. Dean’s hand pumping Castiel’s cock furiously until like a rubber band stretched too tight, everything snapped. Castiel erupted on a soundless scream, his spend thick and white, spurting out and covering their stomachs and Dean’s hand.  Dean continued to writhe wantonly underneath Castiel before locking up, his own release coating Cas’ insides. The feedback loop of their shared sensation kept their bodies on edge, shaking with tremors as Dean continued to pulse inside of Castiel’s, causing Cas’ own cock shoot another load between them.

 

Castiel collapsed fully on Dean, burying his head in the crook of his sweat-dampened neck. There was still a dull roaring in his ears as they continued to quake and Cas greedily inhaled Dean’s spice and sandalwood scent as they embraced each other through the aftershocks. Castiel’s wings gave a quick ripple before they tucked away again, unseen.

 

Eventually, Castiel shifted enough for Dean’s softened cock to slip free and he could feel come leaking out of his ass and coating Dean’s thighs. They were both too tired to care; a satisfied, dirty-sticky mess.

 

Dean chuckled weakly, “That never gets old, Castiel,” Dean said hoarsely, voice infused with wonder as it so often was after they made love. Cas squeezed him tighter.

 

 _“ Ol chiso ta el, ta ol bolape commah, ol hoath,_ ” Castiel said, reverently, the Enochian coming guttural and unbidden, as it was wont to do when they were like this.  "Always."

 

They stayed, seated, until the drying come and sweat was too uncomfortable to bare anymore. Castiel rose on legs weak as spaghetti, steadying himself with a hand to Dean’s shoulder. Dean smiled up at him, a sated cat, happily well fed, before pushing up from the couch.

 

They wordlessly headed for the shower, washing each other tenderly, sharing soft kisses under the hot spray of the water, too tired for anything beyond sweetness. After toweling off, neither of them even glanced at the other twin bed across the room, settling themselves into the closest one and twining naked around each other, sated and content.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ol chiso ta el, ta ol bolape commah, ol hoath: We shall be as one, when we are together, my love.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up before the sun feeling relaxed, warm, and apparently, as the little spoon. Cas’ face was tucked into his neck, warm puffs of air caressing his skin comfortingly.  The room was still dark, the sky changing from inky black to pre-dawn blue. The arm draped over him was heavy and Dean knew that without prompting, his husband would stay asleep unless Dean chose to wake him up.  Deciding not to be cruel to the man who’d rocked his world the night before, Dean carefully extracted himself from Castiel’s embrace and slid out of bed. He couldn’t help himself, though, from pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

 

The amount of love that welled up inside of him for Castiel was staggering at times, making his heart trip and his breath catch. Dean still had a hard time sometimes, trying to figure out what it was about _him_ that had made it so he was blessed enough to be Cas’ everything.

 

Dean made his way to the bathroom, nearly tripping over a pair of pants, and holding back a loud yelp when the heel of his foot was nearly impaled by a belt prong. He managed to piss incident-free and quietly dressed as the room steadily grew lighter. A peek out the window showed that the valet had dropped off the Impala sometime during the night. Dean went to the kitchen area in search of coffee, thankful when he saw a coffee maker on the counter with a can of _Maxwell_ _House_ next to it. Dean set the coffee to brew, and after a search, took down two oversized mugs from the cabinet above the stove, knowing the smell would wake Castiel even quicker than Dean could.  A small blue and white striped canister of sugar packets sat on the counter and quick peek inside of the fridge netted him a bowl of creamers and he grabbed a handful, knowing his husband liked his coffee sweet and light.

 

As predicted, as soon as the strong aroma of fresh coffee began to fill the cabin, Dean heard Castiel stirring; the pad of his footsteps, always so much more graceful than Dean’s, and the click of the bathroom door closing.  Dean was just pouring their cups when he felt Cas’ arms wrap around him from behind, his forehead pressed to his nape.

 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said and laughed when Cas merely grunted.

 

“Time’s it?” the angel grumbled as Dean turned in his arms, taking in the endearing sight of grumpy Cas in the morning. He was wearing loose grey sleep pants and Dean’s tee-shirt from the night before; making Dean wonder where it had ended up after Cas had banished it from his body.  His husband’s normally tousled hair stood up in all directions and his cornflower eyes held the look of the dazed and tired. His plush, pink lips still appeared kiss-bitten and Dean couldn’t resist leaning in for a taste, which Castiel happily surrendered to.

 

“I’d have to check my phone,” Dean started when he pulled away, laughing a little as Cas chased after him, “but my guess would be about 5:30 am.”

 

“Ugh. Why?” Castiel said in horror, though his pout lessened dramatically when Dean placed the mug of coffee in his hands. Cas drank his first sip greedily, morning kisses soon forgotten. Dean tried not to be offended.

 

Dean picked up his own coffee with one hand and tugged on Cas’ hand with the other.

 

“C’mon. Let’s take advantage of the porch and watch the sun come up,” Dean said, leading his husband out of the kitchen, through the main room, and out the door.  The air was cool for now, but Dean could feel the hint of humidity and knew by noon it would be uncomfortably sticky. Dean lowered himself down into the wide Adirondack chair, smiling when Castiel settled himself across his lap instead of taking its partner.

 

They were quiet as the sky began to lighten around them, sipping coffee contentedly as purple bled to pink and pink bled to orange before the trails in front of them became sunlit. Castiel angled his head to face Dean, reaching with his free hand to card through his hair. Dean leaned into the touch.

 

“What time did you want to head over to the beach tonight?” Castiel asked as he continued to play with Dean’s hair, fingers now massaging his scalp. Dean fought to keep his eyes open at the pleasing sensation.

 

“I’m thinking we play it by ear, see if anyone brings it up to us. I still think this whole thing might just be a waste of time. I mean, how many memory sucking water monsters could there be?” Dean asked, half joking.

 

“Well, there is the Kappa,” Castiel pointed out and Dean shook his head as he took a sip of his coffee.

 

“Doubtful, they’re native to Japan and tend to stay in their own region.”

 

“A Makara,” Cas said and Dean cocked his head.

 

“Hmm. Maybe. That’s the fish-bottom human-top creature, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel said, “though they do tend to congregate towards massive shipwrecks.”

 

Dean snorted. “Yeah, haven’t read anything about one of those recently.  Melusine?”

 

“Melusine are freshwater mermaids, they don’t live in the ocean,” Cas pointed out.  “Not to mention, they often seek out men, not women.”

 

“And I guess we can rule Naiads; no springs or waterfalls, plus murder isn’t really there thing,” Dean said before he drained the rest of his coffee.

 

“Twenty years ago, my first instinct would have been to say Siren,” Castiel said thoughtfully, fingertips playing a staccato beat on his empty coffee mug.

 

“True,” Dean conceded. Rehabilitation with Sirens had come a long way over the years. Siren’s fed off the essence of men, the energy from their souls. The thing was, they didn’t need to drain a human completely to feed, it was just that usually, one person wasn’t enough for a whole tribe.  Now there were outside concerts all over the world, held on the summer and winter solstices. Groups of Sirens singing their haunting songs, feeding off the revelry of the crowd without needing to hypnotize them to their death. Of course, there was always the handful that would pregame a little too much, lowering their inhibitions to the point where they attempted to jump in the water anyway. Morons like that kept the concert security on their toes.

 

“Well, aren’t the two of you adorable?” Dean was startled out of his thoughts as the blonde from the dining hall the night before called to them, eyeing them speculatively. Dean felt Castiel tense in his lap and an intense surge of annoyance coming from the angel nearly choked him. Unconsciously, Dean began rubbing back and forth between Cas’ shoulder blades, where his wings remained hidden.

 

The blonde wore jogging clothes as she stretched at the end of the cabin’s driveway and Dean bit back growl as she used Baby to balance against.  

 

“I just washed her,” Dean grumbled under his breath and Castiel huffed out a laugh. Dean’s pride and joy was his 1967 black Chevy Impala. He barely let his family touch her, let alone some stranger. Dean watched as the woman straightened up and began to stride up to the porch.

 

“Hello, gentlemen,” the woman said, tone cultured, with a hint of the UK in it. “I’m Toni Bevell. I noticed you both last night. First timers?” she asked, raking her eyes over them, a slight smirk twisting her lips.

 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean replied, nothing hiding the little flash of irritation at his cool tone.

 

“Is your husband not with you?” Castiel asked, squinting at her curiously and Toni gave a little titter of laughter.

 

“Oh, God, no. Arthur won’t rise til the last minute. He’ll even skip breakfast to stay sleeping. If we didn’t have group, he’d sleep until noon.”

 

She didn’t sound annoyed about it, merely indifferent. They could have been talking about a stranger for all the care she seemed to have when speaking of her husband.

 

Dean shifted when Castiel turned, swinging his legs off of Dean’s lap and standing up. He stretched and Dean narrowed his eyes possessively as Toni’s own gaze lingered a little _too_ long on the swathe of skin peeking out from under Castiel’s shirt.

 

“Speaking of breakfast,” Castiel said, gravel-laced voice aimed at Dean, “we should get ready to head to the dining hall ourselves,” Cas turned towards Toni. “It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said, the dismissal in his tone unmistakable and Dean had to stifle a laugh.

 

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to talk all about our feelings on an empty stomach, now would we?” Dean said teasingly, standing up himself and giving the blonde a salute, quickly following after Cas who had walked back into the cabin without a backward glance.

 

When Dean entered the bedroom it was to the sound of Cas’ gritty voice grumbling under his breath. Dean thought he caught the words _Shameless_ and _inappropriate_ as the angel tossed a pair of socks onto the bed harder than necessary. They bounced, hitting the floor and skidded under the bed.

 

“Uh, you okay, baby?” Dean asked, leaning against the door jam, arms folded over his well-worn AC/DC shirt. Castiel paused in his pawing at the drawers, yanking out a pair of sky blue boxer briefs and tossing them on the bed with a pair of jeans and short-sleeved Henley in salmon.  He then proceeded to perform the most efficient strip tease ever, dropping his pajama pants and yanking his tee-shirt over his head and quickly pulling on his underwear in jerky motions. Dean could feel the aggravation rolling off of him in waves and tried to pinpoint where exactly it was coming from. Yeah, the chick had been leering at Cas, but Dean didn’t think he’d get that bent out of shape about it. “Are you feeling objectified?” he asked teasingly, trying to lighten the mood, only to have Castiel narrow his eyes at him, head tilted in his classic bird-like pose.

 

“What? No,” Castiel shook his head as he zipped his jeans and buttoned the fly. “Look, I just didn’t like how she was staring at you. It’s rude and disrespectful,” he said primly and Dean raised his brows in confusion.

 

“Me? Darlin, she was all about you. Your shirt rode up and I swear she was writing love letters to your hip bones,” Dean said, feeling the flash of irritation rear up again, but Castiel only rolled his eyes.

 

“Of course, you didn't notice,” he said with a shake of his head, sitting on the bed and tugging on his socks.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, a little wounded at the exasperation in Cas’ voice.

 

“Nothing,  just forget it. I’m starving,” Castiel said as he stood up and brushed past Dean, leaving him standing in the room wondering what happened to their peaceful morning.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel could feel the discontent rolling off of Dean in waves, the weight of his gaze heavy on his back as he walked over to the golf cart. He felt his own vexation ratchet up a notch in response. He didn’t know if he felt guilty or justified, he just knew that he was twisted up inside. Castiel slid into his side, aggravated with himself that he didn’t think to grab the keys. It was a lot easier to avoid an awkward conversation if he had the excuse of having to concentrate on driving. Of course, the dining hall was close enough that he could just fly, but there was no way Dean would let him get away with that and escape a scene. Plus, Castiel was no coward.

 

He just didn’t like having to face emotions like this. Before Dean, the feeling of jealousy or inadequacy in oneself wasn’t something he had to deal with too much, if at all. He loved his sister and his nephew, but it was comfortable, familial. His love for Dean… that was all-encompassing. It was just so much at all times, and it could become very overwhelming. Castiel would never give it up, but there were times he detested how it magnified the less than flattering aspects of his personality falling in love had brought out of him; jealousy, insecurity, possessiveness being the worst of them.

 

Dean sighed heavily as he settled in the golf cart next to Castiel. He raised his hand with the keys before dropping it to his thigh, his fingers of his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

‘Nope,” he began without preamble. “We’re not doing this. We’re not going to walk into fake couples therapy class when things are like this. Not happening.”

 

Castiel looked over at him sharply and Dean chuckled humorlessly.

 

“You're all churned up, Cas, I can feel it. And I can’t do anything about it if you don’t talk to me,” Dean shrugged. “So. Talk to me.”

 

Castiel searched moss green eyes flecked with gold and saw concern, slight exasperation, and as always, unwavering love and Cas felt something in his chest unclench. He huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

 

“It’s...honestly, I… I don’t even really know,” Castiel found himself floundering and was grateful when Dean laced their fingers together and gripped his hand.

 

“Cas, it’s okay. Just take a second and start with one thing. Tell me one thing that you’re feeling in that emotional stew you got flowing between us.”

 

Dean voice was gentle and Castiel found himself blurting, “Jealousy,” and Dean’s feelings of confusion shot through the bond.

 

“Why? You gotta know I would never-”

 

“Of course I do, “ Castiel hurriedly cut in. “That’s not even a question. ”

 

“Good,” Dean said firmly.

 

“It’s just...it’s disrespectful to me, frankly. The fact that she would so blatantly rake her eyes over you like that in front of me. We’re married, you’re my husband and she didn’t even try to hide it,” Castiel felt better for saying it out loud and Dean cupped the back of his head, fingernails scratching at the back of his head.

 

“I’m sorry, Cas. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything other than the way she was watching _you_. I didn’t see what you saw. I didn’t notice, Castiel. Why would I when all I see is you?”

 

Cas felt the wind knock out of him and narrowed his eyes at his husband. “Fucker,” he growled. “Of course you have to say something like that and make me feel ridiculous.”

 

Dean laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re fine. You think you’re the only one who gets irrationally insecure?  Man, you’re an angel. A literal fucking _angel_. And here you are, slumming it on earth with me. Working a let's face it, horrific job, wading through blood, shit and piss. Chasing after the cruelest of the cruel. Dude, you could have so much more bright in your life,” Dean finished with a shake of his head and Castiel grasped his cheeks, turning Dean’s face to his.

 

“ _You_ are the bright in my life, ” he breathed out resolutely before claiming Dean’s mouth in a heated kiss that had them both gasping for air when they broke apart.

 

“Whoa. That was intense,” Dean’s voice held a giddiness that was welcome and familiar when their bond was particularly potent. “Are we good, sunshine?”

 

“We’re good, Dean.”

* * *

 

Over breakfast, they chatted about how they wanted to play it in group.

 

“I say we go the perfect couple route who only bickers about stupid shit,” Dean said as he tore into a cinnamon raisin bagel loaded with cream cheese and Castiel rolled his eyes.

 

“Like how annoying it is when you talk with your mouth full?” Castiel asked drily, not laughing at all at the _Philadelphia_ _Style_ mustache Dean was sporting now as he winked at him playfully.

 

“If someone is targeting couples,” Dean said around his napkin while wiping his face, “ then they might enjoy taking down one who is almost obnoxiously happy; like we feel just a little bit above all of this stuff but we’re doing it anyway because it’s trendy.”

 

Castiel laughed at that. “It almost sounds fun, but wouldn’t it make more sense if we were at odds? If you’re going to come after someone, don’t you go for the weak? Choose the pair that’s already fractured?”

 

Dean gave a small nod as he sipped at his coffee. “Good point. I was just thinking though, that if this is a real case, then wouldn’t a couple like Toni and what was it? Aaron?”

 

“Arthur,” Cas supplied, spearing up a piece of watermelon from his fruit salad.

 

“Right, Arthur. If this thing is going after broken couples, wouldn’t it zero in on one like them? They barely speak, and she apparently has no issue in letting her eyes wander.”

 

Well, that was certainly true. “I guess we should play it by ear. It’s not the first time we’ve had to adlib before,” Castiel pointed out. They were hell in interviews together. Especially with Dean’s ability to understand Enochian.

 

“Okay, then let’s do this.”

* * *

  
  


They sat in folding chairs in a circle, as the therapist, Pamela, went around the room asking couples to introduce themselves.  Castiel was annoyed to find Toni and Arthur already there, but let it float away when Dean strode purposely across the room, choosing seats on the opposite side sliding an arm around Cas’ shoulders immediately.

 

As couples introduced themselves they learned that the Bevills were in their second week, but that they had been coming to the retreat for years. Castiel was surprised when for the first time in all of his observation of the couple so far, they actually spoke like they cared, stating that their relationship took continuous maintenance, but they loved each other enough to keep trying.

 

They met another couple named Cesar and Jesse who were here to find ways to deal with running a business together and not letting it bleed into their personal lives which was nearly impossible.

 

“Hi, I’m Dean,” Dean said when Pamela lit her eyes on them. “This is my husband Castiel. We're actually still kind of in the honeymoon stage, but Cas here thought coming here would be a good idea,”

 

“We both agreed,” Castiel chided, infusing kindness into his tone.  “You see, Dean has just been made partner at the auto shop he works at, and I have picked up a few classes-I’m a Theology professor and-”

 

“And Cas is afraid we might start slipping in our communication with both of us working so much more now,” Dean said with a deliberate edge to his voice that said how silly he thought the whole things was.

 

“And you’re not afraid of that, Dean?” Pamela asked, interest in her professional tone and Dean shrugged.

 

“Not really. Cas and I, we’re really connected. We can usually tell when the other is feeling upset about something and we try not to let it fester. We did that a lot at the beginning of our relationship,” Dean said, surprising Castiel with his truthfulness, “but I like to think we have learned from that.”

 

“Well, it’s never a bad idea to do some relationship maintenance, even if things are going well,” Pamela said and Castiel sent Dean a smug, _I told you so_ smirk that had some of the others in the room laughing.

 

One of the last couples they met looked utterly miserable. They didn’t hold hands, they barely acknowledged each other.  They were dealing with the effects of letting an outsider into the relationship. Apparently, they both thought that the other wanted to spice things up, and invited a friend into the bedroom. Castiel felt something twist in his stomach at the thought of ever sharing Dean with someone else.  He felt a feeling of sickness claw up his throat as Dean’s fingers dug into the side of his arm.

 

 _No way, dude. Not ever. Winchesters don’t share._ Dean pushed the thought at him and Castiel hid his smile behind his hand.

 

Turns out that wasn’t the end of the young couples tale, as now said friend was currently pregnant with the husband’s baby.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered into Castiel’s ear. “That’s some serious _Jerry_ _Springer_ level shit,” and at his blank look Dean just brushed him off, whispering “never mind.”

 

By the end of the session, as _‘homework’_ they were advised to each write down something they loved about the other and something they wanted their partner to work on.

 

“I need you to work on your talk show knowledge,” Dean teased as they stood up and Cas snorted.

 

“Yeah, you can work on your reality tv obsession,” Castiel sassed back and Dean scoffed.

 

“ _Springer_ isn’t reality,” he said, pausing as Addie, the receptionist from check-in, entered the near-empty room with a few flyers and tacked them on the bulletin board in the back of the room.  As like last time, Cas’ hackles rose at the obvious once-over she gave them before leaving the room. Dean was already walking toward the push-pinned notice and trailing his finger down the list of local events and suggested activity.

 

_Annual Chowder Fest_

_Haunted Mansion Tours_

_Fireworks on the beach (bring your sleeping bag and cozy up!!!)_

 

“Worth checking out?” Castiel asked, not really expecting Dean to say no, especially how he was vibrating with barely contained enthusiasm that had Cas smiling.

 

“Hell yeah. If we’re stuck here on a case that’s probably not a case, I can think of worse places to investigate than under a light show in the sky,” his tone suggested that he was still heavily leaning on there being nothing paranormal going on.

 

He sincerely hoped Dean was right.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

  


Dean let out a low whistle as they entered the room hosting the couples cooking class.  Rows of butcher-block stations complete with ovens filled the room. A Cheerful looking man with a name-tag that said _Mick_ stood at the front of the room, wearing a white apron and thumbing through a cookbook.

 

“Jesus, they could host _Master_ _Chef_ in here,” Dean said in awe, looking around before claiming a station in the back. It looked like it would be two couples per section, and they were the first to arrive.

 

Dean met Cas’ gaze and smiled as the angel looked at him with amusement sparkling in his baby blues.

 

“Well, we all know if you weren’t a… _mechanic,”_ Cas said with an arched brow, “that you would have been a pastry chef.”

 

Dean gave a short laugh, crowding up into his husband’s space. “I’d be okay with that s’long as you were there to kiss the cook,” he followed the warm sentiment up with a soft press of lips that had Cas sighing into his mouth.

 

“You two are going to give the rest of us diabetes,” came Toni’s amused voiced as she approached their station, her husband trailing behind her. “Gentlemen, you didn’t formally meet in the group. This is my husband, Arthur.”

 

Arthur Ketch offered a charming smile. “So you’re the boys my wife has been infatuated with, hmm?” he asked with a nod at Toni and an exaggerated eye-roll.

 

Dean arched a brow, surprised by the amused tone.

 

“Yes,” Castiel said it so flatly that Dean nearly laughed. “I’m a bit confused as to why that appears to humor you? One would think that your wife having covetous thoughts about another’s husband would be vexatious, especially when participating in a program designed to heal broken unions.”

 

Ketch whistled. “Darling, I think perhaps you should move on to another couple, I don’t believe there is any hope with this one.”

 

Dean ran a soothing hand across Cas’ shoulder blades, where his hidden wing joints were, feeling the angel’s frustration through their bond, as he clearly wasn’t understanding the dynamic of this couple. Dean thought he was catching on though, as Toni’s glossy bottom lip poked out in a pout.

 

“Isn’t it kind of sleazy to troll for new playmates at a marriage counselor retreat? These peoples relationships are already in trouble,” Dean said, not able to disguise the hint of disapproval. “I’m not saying there is anything wrong with being Swingers, but don’t you think you oughta be picking from a less vulnerable group?”

 

Toni gave a tinkling laugh. “Dean, we’re not monsters luring innocent couples to our bed. Arthur and I are devoted to each other, and sometimes we enjoy sharing that devotion in a physical way with other people. For us, it’s a bonding experience and only brings us closer. It’s not for everyone, but it works for us.”

 

Dean tried to imagine for just a second sharing what he had with Cas with anyone else and felt immediately ill.

 

“ For the record, the two of you are the only ones we have ever scoped out, as it were, while staying here.  We usually stick to clubs where everyone is aware of what is going on. It was just that we couldn’t help observing that the two of you seem… very solid.”

 

“Meaning?” Castiel asked with a glance towards Dean.

 

“Meaning you’ve been in the group. You’ve seen the drama some of the people are dealing with. You two, though,” Toni said, eyes sweeping over Dean and Castiel, “you’re both very in sync. You show no awkwardness in your body language, there doesn’t appear to be any tension, “ she smirked, ”aside from sexual.”

 

Dean couldn’t hold back the snicker at that, looking over at Cas who just glared at him in disapproval.

 

“Dean.”

 

“Well, she has a point,” he said.

 

“Dean!”

 

Dean swallowed his laugh as Arthur interrupted.

 

“What my lovely wife is saying, is that you both look like you have a strong relationship. You need that to enter into a lifestyle like ours and come out unscathed. As she said, it’s not for everyone.”

 

Conversation momentarily stalled as the teacher, Mick,  began to give instructions.

 

“Sweet,” Dean said excitedly after he pulled the box of ingredients out from under the station as directed and found everything they needed for cherry pie.

 

“You’re not even going to listen to the teacher, are you?” Castiel whispered next to him, a half smile on his entrancing face and Dean leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his mouth.

 

“See? It’s like we’re married or something, how well you know me,” Dean teased against Cas’ lips. “S’ides, you love my cherry pie.”

* * *

 

  
  
It wasn’t long before the sweet, tangy smell of cherries and buttery crust began to fill the room. Next to Dean and Cas, Toni and Arthur playfully flicked flour at each other as they argued on when to take their own pie out of the oven.

 

Castiel laughed when Dean’s stomach growled audibly as he pulled their own golden confection from the stove and placed it on the cooling rack.  

 

“As much as I’d like to dig into this right now, howzabout we bring it with us tonight?” Dean asked, not attempting to be quiet. “We could go to the beach, do a whole picnic thing. What do you think, sweetheart?”

 

“Just be careful if you do go,” came a voice from the station in front of them.  Dean recognized him as Jesse from group therapy. “We heard there were a few accidents there not too long ago.”

 

“Really?” Dean asked, feigning surprise. “Is everyone okay?” he asked as Jesse and his husband Cesar shuffled closer to the station.

 

“Two people died,” Cesar said, eyes wide. One woman fell off a cliff and another was some kind of drowning victim or something. They had both been guests here.”

 

“That’s awful!,” Castiel chimed in. “How’d you hear about this?”

 

“I bet it was Addie,” Arthur cut in drily, taking no shame in listening in. “Girl likes to gossip.”

 

“Addie… the receptionist? “ Dean asked and Jesse nodded, confirming Arthur's suspicions.

 

“Yes. We were here for that first incident,” Arthur said, as he pulled his own pie out of the oven, the smell of slightly burnt cherries filling the room.

 

“I told you that was too long,” Toni pouted and Arthur shushed her with his hand to her mouth, and continued.

 

“The woman fell off a cliff and her wife was passed out on some path somewhere. Heard Addie just talking to herself about how cheaters never prosper, after it happened.  Apparently, they were recovering from infidelity and I personally found her attitude about the whole thing very callous.”.

 

“I’m surprised that Ms. Wolfe would hire someone so without empathy,” Castiel said, “she seemed very dedicated to creating a place where couples could heal and grow.”

 

Arthur nodded, “She is, I doubt she’s ever spoken like that in front of Juliet. She doesn’t like us, though,” he said with a laugh. ”Gives us horrible attitude whenever we come.”

 

“Then why don’t you report her behavior towards you?” Castiel inquired, slapping at Dean’s hand as he began to nonchalantly cut a tiny slice out of the pie.

 

“Ouch!”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s just a little piece,” Dean whined and Castiel rolled his eyes.

 

“Wasn’t it your idea to bring it with us tonight?” Cas asked Dean with a raised brow before turning back to the amused couple next to them.

 

“Because of the fact that we kind of like pissing her off. She’s obviously very judgemental and I won't deny a perverse pleasure in talking about our indulgences in front of her,” Toni said, voice laced with humor and Dean looked at Castiel, knowingly, making a mental note to go back over what information they had on the retreats employees. He doesn’t remember anything standing out to him, but it would be worth a second glance.

* * *

 

When Dean and Castiel arrived back to their cabin after stopping by the dining hall to procure one of the “date night” picnic baskets, Dean called Sam to check in.

 

“Why the hell did I say yes to Gabriel moving in here?” was the greeting Dean received when Sam answered the phone.

 

“Hello to you too, Sammy,” Dean chuckled, putting the phone on speaker.

 

“I’m serious, Dean, between him and Frank, I’m gonna lose my mind. Do you know how hard it is to study when you have an archangel and a conspiracy theorist debating the existence of extraterrestrials at the kitchen table til 2 am?”

 

“I’ll speak with Gabriel, Sam,” Castiel said gruffly as he unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging the material off of his wide shoulders. Dean found himself staring, each delicious peek of skin distracting the detective further and making his mouth run dry. His angel was all man and Dean wanted the rasp of his 5 o'clock shadow nuzzling his neck.

 

He vaguely heard Sam calling his name, his husband peering at him with a tender expression on his angelic face.

 

“Dean. Dean!”

 

“What?!”  Dean snarked back, attention finally pulled from his breathtaking partner who was now pulling a _Louden_ _Swain_ tee shirt over his head.

 

“What do you mean, what? You called me!” Sam’s voice was exasperated and Dean felt himself flush as Castiel gave a dark laugh, eyes full of promise for later.

 

“Just checking in, Sam. Bobby said you were being a cranky little princess and I just wanted to see for myself,” he teased.

 

“You’re a dick,” Sam huffed out. “But seriously, everything going okay?”

 

“You know we really shouldn’t be talking about an active case,” Cas said reproachfully, “but seeing as how we’ve yet to come across anything truly ominous, I venture to say this whole thing _may_ in fact, be a bust.”

 

“Huh. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be sorry about that or not,” Sam said and Dean laughed. “I mean, I guess I’m sorry if you’re wasting your time, but at least no one is getting hurt. How much longer do you think you’ll have to stay?”

 

Dean opened the insulated picnic basket, pulling out the contents and repacking it to fit the cherry pie. “I’m not sure. Couple more days? It’s really up to Crowley, but hopefully not too much longer.” Dean watched as Cas took his wallet off of the bureau and shoved it in the pocket of the jeans he’d traded his dress pants for. “I’m ready for a real vacation,” he said, winking at Castiel when the man’s cobalt gaze met his.

 

Dean and Cas said goodbye to Sam and grabbed the comforter off of their bed to bring with them.  Dean had his gun in his ankle holster knowing there was no way he could unobtrusively wear his gun belt at the beach without looking suspicious in a leather jacket in seventy-five-degree weather. He, like Castiel, had his cuffs in his back pocket.

 

“Ready to go watch the sky explode with color, my love?” Castiel asked, reaching out to lace their fingers together.

 

Dean answered with a lingering kiss that made his pulse quicken and tugged his angel out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel loved the smell of sea salt in the air. The brininess laced with coconut from drugstore sunblock carried on the wind reminded him of flying. He had always been fond of tropical places, the stretch of sugar-white sand a blanket underneath him as he soared. Sometimes looking down was as blinding as looking up to the sun. He missed it. Earthbound angels could still fly short distances, but waking up and deciding to wing it from New York to Belize just wasn’t possible anymore. Being grounded meant his grace, his angel essence, was substantially weaker, which made flying thousands of miles impossible. Castiel didn’t regret his choice. How could he? Helping people, keeping humanity safe the best way he could… it was what he was meant to do. And then there was Dean.

 

His Dean. How could he regret any choice that led him to the very core of his heart? Castiel side-eyed his husband from behind his sunglasses as he drove, the deft fingers of his left hand, wedding ring glinting, tapping out a beat on the steering wheel to a classic _Blondie_ song.  He wondered if he could convince Dean to allow Castiel to take him flying when the case was over and they were alone together on their private beach vacation. He imagined with his fear of heights that it would take some major cajoling on his part to get Dean to acquiesce. He was going to have to tranquilize him for plane ride as it was.

 

The final vestiges of sunlight caught Dean’s face, highlighting the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Castiel loved making constellations of the many golden dots that peppered his love’s glorious body, though Dean would often grumble about them.  Castiel found every part of Dean exquisite, his beauty only eclipsed by the radiance of his soul. He often wondered if God knew that the moment he created Dean Winchester, that he had also brought to life Cas’ reason for existence. That he was both his strength and his weakness, making Castiel feel like blown glass and reinforced steel all at once.

 

“What’s going on in that gorgeous brain of yours, angel?” Strong fingers squeezed Castiel’s as they laid entwined on Dean’s thigh. “You’re pumping out some serious sentimental vibes over there,” Dean said softly.

 

Castiel said nothing, just leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Dean’s stubble before resting his head against his shoulder. “We should park along the waterfront,” he murmured instead and Dean grunted as he scanned the open parking spots along main street facing the docked boats.  The opposite side had a boardwalk that lined the length of the beach with openings that lead down onto the fine white sand. It had a very _Spring_ _Break_ atmosphere and Castiel had to fight back a laugh as he knew his husband’s main preoccupation right now was not the possible case they were investigating, but whether or not his Baby would be safe in an area littered with skateboarding teens and intoxicated patrons popping in and out of the many bars up and down the strip.

 

It was closing in on 6 pm when they finally found a parking space that Dean found suitable enough for him and Castiel rolled his eyes as they exited the car.

 

“Are you sure this one meets your Baby’s standards?” Cas asked drily as they met at the back of the Impala, dodging as Dean tried to pinch him.

 

“So much for sentimental, “ Dean teased as he unlocked the trunk to pull out the basket and blanket. “All I feel now is jealousy and sarcasm.”

 

Castiel laughed loudly, head falling to Dean’s shoulder. He allowed himself to be pulled into a warm embrace. They stood under the slowly setting sun, grip tight and mood content. Cas hummed as he felt Dean’s fingers tangle in his hair, massaging the scalp.  They gave themselves a few minutes before mutually pulling back, Dean kissing Castiel’s forehead softly before letting go. Dean reached into the trunk and pulled out two grey sweatshirts, both huge and both belonging to Sam. It was warm now, but a breezy oceanside at night in New England had the real potential to be chilly.

 

“Here, you be Stanford and I’ll be NYU,” Dean pressed the soft material into Cas’ hand and turned to survey the area.  Beachside snack shacks sat alongside fine dining establishments and tattoo parlors. There were souvenir shops with boogie boards displayed in the windows, sunglass huts, and stores selling local artisans work. Cas noticed his husband's eyes light up as his gaze settled on a shaved lemon ice cart.

 

“It won’t be as good as Charlie’s,” Castiel remarked, earning a grin at the mention of the last game night when the cyber crimes detective threw the rest of Dean’s Polish Vodka in the blender with his box of  _Luigi’s Italian Ice_.

 

“I was so hungover the next day,” Dean groaned as he locked up the car, draping his sweatshirt and the blanket over the arm carrying their picnic dinner so he could have his other hand free to lace with Cas’. Bobbing between tourists and townies as they crossed the street to the boardwalk Dean and Castiel joined the throng of people drifting up and down the wooden planks.

 

Castiel could see the line of barges adrift in the water where the fireworks display would go off. He tried to calculate how much money it would cost to do so every weekend in the summer, imagining that summer business was crucial.

 

“So our first vic, Molly Hedges, drowned leaving husband Paul passed out on the beach. Report said she had to have been in pretty shallow water because she didn’t drift far out, in fact she washed up about a thousand feet from where they were camped out on the beach,” Dean said as they took one of the entrances to the beach, stepping off of the planks and onto soft sand, sneakers sinking in.

 

“Yes, they were down that way,” Castiel pointed out to the right where the stretch of beach led to the side of the bluff. They couldn’t see it from where they were standing, but Cas knew that there was a marked path that would take them to the top. The same path that Asha Jenkins was discovered unconscious on, unaware that her wife Camille was dead at the base of the cliff, bent and broken as a ragdoll. Castiel supposed it was both a blessing and a curse that neither spouse left behind had any recollection of their loved one’s horrific departure from this earth, wondering if the absence of pain was worth the absence of memories.

 

“Are those fire pits?” Castiel asked, tilting his head towards what looked like shallow cement basins every twenty feet or so down the beach.

 

Dean nodded. “A lot of the big party beaches are set up like this. The first time I went to California to visit Sammy during his first college spring break we went to a few crazy shindigs on the beach,” he said as they loomed closer to the first pit. Castiel noticed they were stamped in all caps with the warning _Caution Hot Ashes._ “They had them there too.”

 

“Seems like an accident waiting to happen, “ Castiel said, eyeing the contraption with mistrust and Dean laughed.

 

“Not so bad when you got someone to sit by the fire with,” Dean sent him a wink that made Castiel’s pulse flutter.  “Come on. See that guy up there? He’s selling wood bundles and starter kits. If we’re going to be here for a while, we should grab one,” Dean tugged at Cas’ hand as he led them towards the vendor. Castiel scanned the other side of the beach noting a few more merchants scattered down the way selling more firewood.

 

After purchasing their kit it was about a twenty-minute walk to get to the far end of the beach where the bluff was. There were a lot of families and couples occupying blankets and beach chairs. They passed the second to last fire pit which was surrounded by a family of five, bonfire already blaring and children’s cheeks coated in sticky marshmallow. Castiel couldn’t help smiling when the youngest, a dark-haired girl in pigtails and freckles grinned at him showing two missing front teeth as she waved with her stuffed pink troll doll.

 

They continued walking, settling down at the last firepit and spreading out the blanket. Castiel put the bundle down on the comforter along with the sweatshirts, knowing it would be a long wait until the fireworks began. Castiel’s eyes scanned their surroundings, nudging Dean’s shoulder as he noticed the path twenty or so feet to the right of them. It snaked in a half-moon formation bracketed by wooden posts before the trail twisted and inclined up steeply.  Deeming their things safe from harm, they wordlessly headed down the path, realizing the odd roundabout setup was to avoid the extremely rocky ground and large boulders.

 

It was a short walk to the top of the bluff which opened up fairly wide, but the drop off was harsh. There was no fence blocking the edge but there was a caution sign.

 

“Damn,” Dean muttered next to him as he peered over the edge carefully. Castiel looked down and could only nod in agreement. It wasn’t the largest drop, but the jagged rocks encased in shallow water would be enough of a deterrent for most people to step back and heed the signs. Unless of course, they were intoxicated or pushed.

 

Dean looked pale and Castiel gripped his hand and led him back down the path.

 

“I propose we eat our dinner, then do a walk down the beach, see if any of our fellow retreat members are here,” Castiel suggested and Dean nodded.

 

“Sounds like a plan.  I also propose we wait until after the fireworks to light the fire. If the possible vics are anything to go by, we could be waiting awhile.” Dean paused at the base of the bluff trail. “We don’t even know if the suspect will approach us if we’re together. In both cases, neither spouse was found near the deceased.”

 

It was true.  They made their way over to the blanket and sat down. Dean stretched his legs out before him and sighed.

 

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked as he opened up the insulated basket to pull out their food.  Turkey club sandwiches, a container of mixed berries, bottled water, chilled Pink Moscato that neither would drink while on duty and their homemade cherry pie.  Dean reached a hand out and Castiel swatted it away.

 

“You mean aside from you standing between me and my pie?”

 

“Pie is not a sensible dinner. And yes,” Castiel said, handing Dean his cellophane-wrapped sandwich, shaking his head fondly when he quickly ripped it open and took a large bite. Dean washed it down with a swig of water before speaking.

 

“I just hate feeling like we’re wasting our time. I haven’t seen anything that leads me to believe anything criminal has happened here, paranormal or otherwise. I mean, I don’t wanna let Crowley down, but…”

 

“Dean, we’re not letting anybody down. Crowley sent us here as a favor. This whole case is a favor to help out his old friend. I am sure that he isn’t expecting us to invent a case if there isn’t one,” Castiel said, before taking a bite of his own sandwich. He gave an appreciative hum as he bit in. Something about the sea air always made his normally less than average appetite bigger. Cas smiled as he felt Dean’s thumb swipe across his bottom lip.

 

“Mayo,” Dean said with a soft smile, sucking his digit clean.

 

For a while they sat in comfortable silence as they finished off their dinner, Castiel digging into the mixed berries and Dean declining in favor of the pie which he ate right out of the tin with a fork.

 

Dean fed Cas a forkful of pie, the tangy cherry bursting across his tongue. “Not bad,” he said and Dean scoffed.

 

“Not bad. Try delicious,” he mumbled around another mouthful.

“There’s that modesty again,” Castiel teased, nudging his shoulder against Dean’s as he continued to demolish half of the tasty confection.

 

The sun was nearly set, casting the sky in muted pinks and purples and Castiel looked forward to being able to enjoy it’s beauty thoroughly once they were finally away on their vacation. Cas eyed the throng of people walking along the water's edge, the ones further away blurring into outlines.

 

“Let’s head on up that way,” Dean said, as he stood up and stretched. He offered a hand to Castiel and the angel allowed himself to be tugged upward. He stumbled into Dean’s hard chest and breathed in his sandalwood and leather scent. Cas ran a hand up Dean’s arm and over his shoulder before settling at the back of his neck. Moss green eyes flecked with gold met Castiel’s gaze and he found himself stepping in as close as he could get.  Cas didn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes flitted down to his lips and Castiel closed the distance by pressing his mouth to Dean’s. The detective's lips parted on a sigh and Cas darted his tongue in, tasting cherries and Dean. The kiss was achingly sweet and Castiel’s heart stuttered. Dean’s hand gripped the material of Cas shirt, bunching it at the small of his back as Dean took the kiss a little deeper, a little darker.

 

The breeze kicked up around them, and the sounds of laughter from the other beach-goers became muffled as Dean and Castiel became lost in each other.  A child’s high-pitched shriek finally broke through the haze and Cas chuckled against Dean’s lips as they slowly separated. A glance to the left showed the father of the family they passed pretending to eat the little girl’s S’more. In the decidedly chillier air, Castiel and Dean pulled on their sweatshirts before they headed back up the beach hand in hand.

  



	11. Chapter 11

Dean’s eyes scanned the crowds as he and Castiel trudged through the sand.  He was in good shape, but the sting from walking through sinking beach sand was without a doubt making itself noticeable in his bowed legs. His husband, of course, seemed to suffer no such hardship as he gracefully walked beside him, oblivious to the appreciative looks being thrown at him from men and women alike.

 

Not that Dean wasn’t getting his fair share of once-overs as well, but Cas, with his sex hair and strong thighs, were gaining enough attention that the possessive side of Dean wanted to claim him with a display not fit for the public.

 

The breeze kicked up and the smell of fried dough wafted on the air, making Dean wish he wasn’t too full to have some. This part of the beach was much more crowded than where Dean and Castiel were camped out. He imagined it had to do with the proximity to bathrooms, shopping, and food. Everywhere he looked people were walking with ice cream cones and slushies in souvenir cups.

 

They walked in silence, hands linked as they nimbly avoided seaweed mounds and shrieking children. Once they made it back to the entrance they had entered the beach on, the sky was periwinkle blue and more bright bonfires were beginning to dot the beach. Castiel scanned the water and Dean’s eyes raked over the crowd. He almost missed her.  Dean tugged Castiel in close, oranges, earth, and honeyed rain assaulting his senses as he whispered into Castiel’s ear.

 

“Just over my shoulder about twenty feet back. Pretty sure that is receptionist Addie,” Dean’s lips skimmed the skin of Cas’ neck as the angel shifted, looping his arms around Dean’s neck, sinking into the embrace as he casually looked in the direction Dean had indicated.

 

“Mmhm,” Castiel murmured against Dean’s jaw, their 5 o'clock shadow rasping together audibly.  “I can’t tell if she sees us without looking at her directly,” Cas tilted his head back and Dean pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his husband’s Adam’s Apple.

 

“Let’s head back the way we came and see if she follows,” Dean said in between kisses and kitten licks of Cas’ sea-salt skin. He dragged his mouth away from Castiel’s throat, winding his arm around the man’s waist as they turned around.

 

Halfway back to their fire pit Castiel stopped, feigning a need to tie his sneaker and inconspicuously scanned the area. “I don’t see- _wait_. Yes, she’s following us. She’s up on the boardwalk now, though.”

 

Dean offered Cas a hand, pulling him and up and casually looking over his shoulder,  eyes swiftly passing over the crowd and taking note of the woman, dark hair loose and flowing, in a plain white sundress.

 

“She could just be meeting someone,” Castiel said as they continued back to their blanket.

 

“Yeah, or she could be on her own. People enjoy fireworks,” Dean admitted. “Just weird she wouldn’t say hi, or I don’t know, wave?”

 

“Considering she hasn’t been shy of her perusal of you,” Castiel said darkly and Dean huffed out a laugh.

 

“It constantly amazes me how you never seem to see the looks people give you, sweetheart,” Dean said, amused when his angel merely shrugged him off with a blush.

 

Dean and Castiel sat back down on the comforter, noting that they couldn’t see Addie any longer. With nothing left to do, they settled in to await the fireworks and the darkness that would follow.

* * *

 

 

“You know,” Dean said after the bursts and booms of color in the sky died out, “I was thinking that when it quiets down a little bit more, one of us should take a walk. If something _is_ going to happen, I doubt it will be with both of us here.”

 

Castiel nodded, laying back on the blanket and stretching. Dean couldn’t help be drawn to the swath of skin peeking out from under his husband’s tee-shirt.

 

Castiel- _eyes closed and oblivious-_ gave a soft grunt in agreement. “It should be me. If you leave and something happens, you’d have to run all the way back here, whereas I could just fl-,” Castiel gave a low chuckle as Dean’s fingers began to trail across his tummy and under his shirt. “Dean, stop,” Castiel let out a soft gasp as Dean’s fingers lightly caressed a nipple.

 

“Why?” Dean asked softly, propped up on one elbow as he gazed down at his love.  “We’re just passing time, sweetheart. Why not-” Dean leaned down to nip at Cas’ plush bottom lip, “indulge…” Dean soothed the bite with a soft swipe of his tongue- “just a little bit,” Castiel swallowed Dean’s murmuring by lifting his head and capturing Dean’s mouth fully.  He draped himself over Cas’ body caging his head with his forearms as they began to kiss in earnest. Cas’ fingers dragged up and down Dean’s back, fingers skirting the hem of his tee-shirt.

 

This was something Dean would never tire of, the taste of Castiel, his scent, the hard line of his gorgeous body against his. But more than that, he treasured the way they connected emotionally. Dean never had to fear that Castiel didn’t know how he felt. When words were hard to come, his feelings broadcasted with as much force and flame as the fireworks that had exploded above them.

 

It didn’t take long before languid kisses turned darker, with slick drags of tongue. Cas nudged his leg between Dean’s thighs, allowing their bodies to line up, deliciously. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean knew that rutting on the beach with his husband was not what he was supposed to be doing, but his body was on fire, the sound of Castiel’s deep groans making lust curl in his stomach like a beast itching to be sated.

 

Dean forced himself to tear his mouth away on a gasp, resting his forehead against Castiel’s as they both panted, trying to catch their breath.

 

“It’s not fair that normal people can indulge in some innocent frottage for an hour, but we can’t without nearly coming in our jeans after ten minutes,” Dean huffed out and Castiel barked out a laugh.

 

“I know for a fact that you love it,” Castiel said with that arched brow that always made Dean want to say things like _yes sir_ and _I’ll be good._

 

‘Yes, I do, you winged menace,” Dean teased with affection, “but you should go take your walk now so we’re not arrested for public indecency.  Pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well with the commissioner and the lieutenant.”

 

“Probably not,” Castiel rasped out, gruffly. “Now let me up. I’ll bring you back an Italian Ice.”

 

Cas pulled Dean in for one last lingering kiss and began his trek up the beach again.

 

He was only gone about fifteen minutes when she came.

 

“Hello there, Dean,” her voice was like melted butter as she stared at him with a come-hither smile. “Out here all by your lonesome?”

 

Dean nearly rolled his eyes at the obvious invitation in her eyes. They had an unnatural gleam, almost glowing gold and he wondered if she was trying to work some kind of mojo on him.

 

Dean laughed and kept his tone light when he replied, “One could ask you the same thing, Addie. Are you here by yourself?”

 

Addie tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder, and trailed a long fingernail down the side of her own neck, in an attempt to draw Dean’s eye. Subtlety, apparently, was not her strong suit.

 

“Well,” she began softly, her generous mouth pulling into a practiced pout. “I actually got stood up.”

 

Dean affected a gasp of shock. “No way. I’m sorry, that’s a real dick move.”

 

Addie gave a delicate sniff as she moved a little closer.  “I know. I’m sure you would never do that to your husband, now would you?” Before he could answer she continued, “Where is he, by the way?”

 

Dean honed in on the calculated tone in her voice but played it cool. “Too much wine,” he said with a laugh. “He went to find a restroom and to get us some snacks. I’ve been tasked with building us a fire.”

 

“Oh. Then I guess you’re probably too busy,” Addie said, words dripping with faux sadness.

 

“Too busy for what?” Dean asked and tried to sound concerned. It seemed to work as her eyes took on that glint again, and Dean was almost certain at this point that she was trying to connect with him.

 

“Well,” Addie looked up at him coyly from beneath her lashes and laid a manicured hand on his arm, sending alarm bells off in his head as he felt a gentle tugging on his mind. “See, I really wanted to take a walk on the bluff trail and see the view, but after what happened to that poor girl, I’d rather not go alone.”

 

Dean knew there were two ways he could play this, and both had their risks. He could stall and hope he didn’t tip her off, or he could go along with her and pretend to play into her hands. He already knew that going along would no doubt net the best results.

 

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to let you go off on your own, especially when you’re that nervous,” Dean said kindly, offering his arm. _Breaker, breaker. Castiel, you read me? Guess who needs an escort to the top of the bluff?  "_ So, Addie. What’s that short for, anyway? Addison? Adelaide?”

 

Addie laughed, the sound almost mocking now that she had Dean where she wanted him. “Oh, nothing so pedestrian. I’m named Adrestria after my mother. It’s Greek.”

 

Dean cocked his head. Why did that name sound familiar?

 

_Who the fuck is Adrestria, Cas?_

* * *

 

 

Castiel had decided long ago that he did not understand today’s youth. _Totes, adorbs, extra, boo._ As he waited in line for shaved lemon ice, he thought his ears would bleed if he had to hear any more.  He had to hold back a loud snort when the teenager in front of him referred to her significant other as _Bae_. He wondered if the young man would find it so endearing if he knew that the word was actually Danish for excrement.

 

As the wind danced around him, Castiel was grateful for the warmth of the sweatshirt. He ordered Dean’s treat, telling the vendor to keep the change.  Castiel crossed back to the boardwalk and the nearest entrance to the beach. Things had thinned out since the fireworks display ended. It was going on 11 pm, probably about quarter of if Cas had to guess. All that remained were small groups gathered around bonfires and a few couples enjoying some heated heavy petting.

 

The sky was remarkably clear and Cas smiled as he looked up at the sky. On their first wedding anniversary, one of Dean’s gifts had been to register a star in the Summer Triangle constellation and name it _Destiel_.  It was sappy and romantic and they had the certificate framed in their bedroom.  Just thinking about it had him wishing he could kiss Dean right then.

 

_Breaker, breaker. Castiel, you read me? Guess who needs an escort to the top of the bluff?_

 

Castiel stopped short as he felt the warm pulse that was Dean activating their bond.

 

“Dean!” Castiel whispered sharply, focusing on Dean until they connected, link slotting together like puzzle pieces. “Dean, are you alright?”

 

_Who the fuck is Adrestria, Cas?_

 

Castiel began striding down the beach again, not wanting to fly back abruptly and put Dean in any unnecessary danger. Though Castiel’s own heart was racing, he had to think like a detective, not a worried husband.  Castiel clutched the icy drink in his hand, the cold condensation somehow grounding as he searched his long memory for the name.

 

“She’s a demigod and the daughter of the goddess of love and revenge. She lures men or women that she believes make a mockery of love by seducing them, then punishing them, usually financially or by ruining their reputation,” Castiel muttered quietly to Dean, his steps hastening. “Dean, tell me you’re okay.”

 

Rationally, he knew Dean was fine, he would have felt otherwise, but he still needed the confirmation.

 

_I’m fine, Cas.  Hang back. We’re walking up the trail. She’s leaning on me, commenting at how romantic the beach is at night._

 

Castiel narrowed his brows in irritation and Dean chuckled in his mind.

 

_You’re adorable. I think she’s trying to seduce me, or something. She is really focused on me when she talks and I swear… I swear her eyes are flickering gold.  How strong is the daughter of a demigod?_

 

“Dean, you need to be careful. If she has taken her mother’s work a step further, then she is trying to trick you into something clandestine so she has an excuse to get rid of you,” Castiel warned. “I don’t know what the extent of her power is, the bloodline would be muted, but I imagine she has some strength, either physically or with enchantments if she has already taken out two victims.”

 

_We’re almost at the top. How close are you?_

 

“I’m nearly at the blanket.”

 

_Alright. Sit tight.  I’ll call for you when it’s time._

 

“Be safe, _ol_ _monons_ ,” Castiel whispered as he stood under the stars in front of the empty fire-pit, still clutching Dean’s frozen lemonade.  He turned, faced the top of the bluff, and waited.

 

When the call came, a soft gasp of his name; _Cas,_ he’d already been in the air.

 

“How long have you and Castiel been together?” Adrestria asked him as they breached the top of the bluff.

 

“We’ve been married for over three years, but known each other for eight,” Dean answered, hanging back a bit as she moved closer to the edge.

 

“I don’t think he liked me very much,” she said with a pout and Dean had to hold back a smirk at how true that was.

 

“Don’t take it personally. Cas is very… possessive.  Actually, I should text him so he knows where to look for me when he gets back to our spot.”

 

Adrestria cocked her head to the side. “Why? Have either of you done something to warrant that kind of distrust?”

 

“That’s a pretty personal question,” Dean remarked, pulling out his phone and turning on the recorder application instead of messenger, then slipped it into the front pocket of his shirt.

 

“Yes, well, I just hate to see anyone trapped in an unhealthy relationship.”

 

“Cas’ and I’s relationship is just fine, thank you,” Dean said with a light laugh.

 

Adrestria crooked her finger at him, beckoning Dean to move forward.  He took a handful of steps towards her to which she met him, crowding into his space.

 

“Are you sure about that?” she was close enough that her breath fanned his face, cloyingly sweet. Her eyes flashed gold again and at this proximity, he could feel her trying to tug at his mind. It was a mild annoyance at best and Dean wondered if being Castiel’s true mate made him immune to whatever mojo she was trying to work on him.

 

“Why, are you offering your… services?” Dean raised a brow at her and she smiled serenely at him, before lifting a finger to trace across his lips and Dean felt his skin crawl.

 

“I’m just saying, if you want to add some spice, I wouldn’t mind. You’re sinfully attractive Dean,” her voice was like silk as she praised him. “You don’t need to be with someone who only sees you as a possession.”

 

Dean leaned forward, his lips a hair's breadth away from hers, taking in the look of satisfaction stealing across her face by his movement towards her.

 

“Not interested,” he whispered, and leaned back, nearly laughing at the look of rage that took over her expression.

 

“How are you resisting me?” she demanded and Dean clenched his jaw.

 

“Why? Were you expecting me to fall all over myself for you, like Molly Hedges and Camille Jenkins?”

 

Her breath hissed out as she said viciously, “Who _are_ you?”

 

Dean ignored her. “Why’d you do it, huh? You know, your mother, she may have doled out retribution, but she never killed anyone.”

 

“What do you know?” Adrestria spat out. “ What these people do, _lying_ to their partners, _cheating_ on them with anyone who shows them a bit of attention? It is unacceptable. Being betrayed like that? It’s worse than death. I give them nothing but what they deserve.”

 

“You’re out of your mind, sister. Does a cheater deserve to have his ass kicked? Sure. But murder? Luring people who are trying to fix their relationships into your web? That’s fucking crazy.  What point are you trying to make?”

 

“That no one can be trusted. That every relationship is doomed to fail. That true love is a _goddamn_ _lie_ ,” her voice was shaking with anger, she was nearly vibrating from it.  “You, though,” she went on, eying him curiously. “You’re different. Everyone can be tempted, yet here you stand. I ask again. Who are you?”

 

Dean latched onto her wrist, tugging then spinning her, grabbing the other in the process, holding her hands against her back with one hand while he fished out his cuffs with the other, speaking in her ear gruffly.

 

“I’m Detective Dean Winchester and you are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be-”

 

She moved so fast, Dean hadn’t even gotten one manacle around her wrist yet before she had spun, hands locking around his throat and squeezing. Her eyes were yellow fire now as she pressed on his windpipe, freakishly strong. Dean began to see black around the edges of his vision, Gasping out his husband’s name.

 

“Cas,” he rasped out, the flutter of wings sounding in the air less than a second later. Adrestria’s grip on Dean loosened enough for him to gasp in a breath as he saw her face register shock as she stared at Castiel. His angel stood, fury etched on his face and his glorious wings ink black in the night and arched high and quivering.  He was gorgeous and however inappropriate Dean felt himself stirring at the arousing site of his powerful, supernatural husband coming to the rescue.

 

“Take your hands off of what’s mine. Now,” Castiel’s voice was a dark warning drenched in liquid smoke, as Adrestria resettled her grip and attempted to try and drag Dean backward towards the edge of the bluff.

 

“Why?” she mocked. “So you can arrest me? I don’t know what you are, but I’m not afraid of you, or your fancy feather show.  I’m the daughter of a demigod-”

She never got to finish. In the blink of an eye Castiel was before her, two fingers raised to press to her forehead.

 

“And I am an angel of the lord,” one touch and she crumpled immediately, releasing Dean in the process. He bent over coughed.

 

“Sonofabitch,” he croaked. “She was pretty damn strong.”

 

Cas leveled him at haughty stare. “Angel trumps Demigod,” he said, voice still reverberating with anger.

 

Castiel had Adrestria on the ground, arms locked in the cuffs that Dean had started to put on her. He looked up at Dean with concerned eyes, the warrior gone now and replaced with a fretting husband as he pulled Dean to him and buried his face in his neck.

 

“You’re okay,” Cas muttered against his skin and Dean held him tighter, sending soothing waves across their bond and gradually felt Castiel relax against him.

 

“I’m okay,” Dean murmured.  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Castiel tipped his head back, glorying in the feeling of having his wings stretched out as far as they could go, Dean’s fingers anchored in the feathers, massaging the oil glands. The breeze was warm, skating across his sweat-dampened skin, the musky smell intermingling with Dean’s luscious sandalwood scent and Castiel’s citrus and rain, creating an intoxicating perfume around them.

 

Castiel undulated his hips, slowly grinding on Dean in sinuous figure eights, the tip of Dean’s cock brushing against Castiel’s prostate in a way that made him quake and shudder. A particularly hard press had his lips falling open on a gasp, eyes flying open and only seeing the vast stars above him. His eyes immediately went to the Summer Triangle, searching out their star as he focused on his breathing, not wanting to end this bliss too soon by coming already.

 

The moon was full and bright on their private beach making the sand glow almost white as the water behind them rippled, dark and boundless. Castiel’s knees were comfortably cushioned by the plush, wide chaise lounge as he lifted, the slow drag of Dean’s cock against his inner walls gratifying. Castiel felt Dean’s thighs quivering underneath him, his fingers clenching against his skin as he trailed them down to rub at one of his favorites spots, Castiel’s hip bones.

 

Cas lifted until barely the tip breached his pucker before sinking down and Dean let out a deep growl; but still, he did not lift his hips to thrust up. He was panting, body tense, wide eyes gleaming in the moonlight.  Castiel brought his hands up to cup his cheeks.

 

“Good boy,” Cas whispered and Dean gave a soft whimper. “Look at you, biting your lip, just letting me take from you. You’re amazing,” Castiel whispered reverently as he quickened his pace. Castiel’s own cock was flushed red and had precome seeping from his slit, but he made no move to stroke himself, and neither did Dean though he wanted to, judging by the way his eyes were drawn down to the hard flesh, drinking him in.

 

Castiel wound his arms around Dean’s neck, one hand creeping up to fist in his burnt honey hair as he changed angles again, sliding up and down languidly, squeezing around Dean causing him to let out a choked gasp.

 

“You’re doing so good, _ol_ _hoath_ , so perfect for me,” Castiel said and Dean moaned at the praise. Castiel knew that Dean was barely hanging on, the feedback loop of their shared sensations was so overwhelming, the feeling of being stretched open and doing the stretching at the same time, it was breathtaking.  When Castiel slammed harder than he had been they both groaned, dark and deep and he felt Dean’s hands trembling as he forced himself to grip Castiel’s strong thighs and stay still as Castiel continued to ride.

 

Castiel’s heart raced as he leaned forward, catching the awed expression on Dean’s face, so filled with love, eyes lust-blown and fever-bright.  Castiel softly brushed his lips against Dean’s, and whispered, “Take what you need.”

 

That was all of the permission Dean needed as his hands slid up Castiel’s thighs to grip his hips. Feet anchored in the sand Dean thrust up as Cas angled down and the shared pleasure was so intense they both cried out, loudly. There was no dragging it out after that, as they moved together seamlessly, a dance beautifully choreographed and familiar.  Dean pounded up into Cas’ sweet spot until he was nothing but a mess of gravel-laced grunts. Dean’s whole body shook like a live wire as his hips pistoned, a litany of “ _Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas_ ,” falling from his mouth until his whole body locked up on one particularly hard thrust, Dean’s fingers digging into Castiel’s ass hard enough to leave bruises, holding him in his lap. Castiel felt the hot pulses of Dean’s come fill him up and he crushed his lips to Dean’s harshly, groaning into it as Cas’ own cock erupted between them, globs of his thick, white release dribbling out, slicking down the side.

 

“Fuck,” Cas cursed as Dean brought a trembling oil-slicked hand to stroke his still hard cock, working him through the second orgasm, coaxing the rest of his seed out with gentle squeezes and twists of his wrist.“ _Fuck_ ,” Cas cursed again when Dean brought his hand up to lick the sticky spend from his fingers. Castiel couldn’t help but chase Dean’s lips with his own, licking into his delectable mouth, tasting himself mixed with the wine and strawberries they’d had earlier. They kissed, sweetly, for a few more moments, before just embracing and breathing each other in.

 

“I can’t believe we only have two days left here,” Dean moaned mournfully against the skin of Castiel’s neck and the angel chuckled.

 

“I know. It did seem to fly by, didn’t it?” Castiel said, tucking his wings back into the ether, then laughing at Dean’s pout for having them gone.

 

“Quickest month ever,” Dean said with a heavy sigh.

 

After Castiel had detained Adrestria things had moved fairly quickly. They had called Crowley, adhering to his direction, as the demigod’s crimes were not made in their jurisdiction. However, whatever red tape had to be maneuvered, Crowley handled it, arranging for transport to the nearest facility equipped to contain a prisoner with paranormal abilities, which happened to be in _Crossroads_. The taped confession that Dean provided quickly had Adrestia’s lawyers scrambling to make a deal as opposed to going to trial and facing the death penalty. In return for restoring the spouses' memories of their loved ones, she would receive two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. To say she had not been happy about it was an understatement, but three squares and a bed for the rest of her life frightened her less than lethal injection.

 

Adrestria’s true motive came to light in the form of a shy, English professor who had been the ‘love of her life’. According to the man who came forward when news of the case hit, he had broken things off with Addie when she told him the truth about who she was. He said he wasn’t comfortable being with someone when he couldn’t be sure if he was with them because he loved them or because her will was demanding it.   The heartbreak had been enough to send her off the rails. Castiel had felt a twinge of pity for her, but Dean hadn’t. _A broken heart sucks,_ Dean had said. _But that is not an excuse to punish other people for having what you don’t._

 

Castiel shifted in Dean’s lap, lifting enough to let his husband’s softening cock slip from his slick channel, feeling the come sliding out and down his thighs, rubbing into Dean’s skin and making him snicker.

 

“We must look like a hot mess right now,” Dean said, laughing again at how rapidly they were sticking together.

 

Castiel took in Dean's mussed hair, the flush that still graced his chest, still visible under the light of the moon. His kiss-bitten lips were plump and pink and Cas couldn’t resist sinking his teeth into the bottom one and tugging.

 

“ _M_ __icama_  babalonu arezodi _,” Castiel rumbled, voice guttural and he smirked a little when he felt Dean’s dick twitch at the sound of it.

 

“You too, angel,” He breathed out before bringing their mouths together for a lazy kiss. When they finally broke apart, Castiel raised a brow in question.

 

“Shall we take a moonlit dip, or should I just,” he wiggled his fingers to suggest using his grace to clean them and Dean laughed.

 

“My legs feel like spaghetti. I don’t think I could make it all the way down to the water without them buckling.  S’ides, we’re on vacation. There’s no unhinged demigod trying to kill me, I guess it’s okay if you use a little of your mojo to clean us up.”

 

Castiel snapped his fingers and the tacky feeling of cooling come was gone. They laid back and rearranged themselves, naked on the chaise, legs and arms entwined as they faced each other.

 

“This really has been the best vacation. Let's not wait so long to go next time. We need to be better about delegating cases. We have a good team that is itching for more responsibility,” Dean said and Castiel nodded.

 

“I agree,” Castiel said. “On another subject, I wonder if Sam has maimed Gabriel in any way since we’ve been gone,” he teased and Dean chuckled.

 

“I guess we’ll find out when we get home, sweetheart.”

 

_Home_. It didn’t sound so bad, leaving paradise. Not when he had Dean by his side. Castiel smiled as Dean’s breathing slowed, nuzzling into Cas’ neck as he dozed. Castiel knew that home was wherever his beloved human was, whether on a tropical private beach or their house outside the city.  

 

“You’re my home, Dean,” Castiel whispered, wondering if the thought had skipped off into his husband’s dreams for the way his face lit in a smile even in sleep.

 

Castiel’s own lips turned up when _and you’re mine_ whispered across the angel’s mind as he drifted off to sleep.

 

The end

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micama babalonu arezodi: you look wickedly sated
> 
> For those of you interested in how these two got together, please check out the first story in this series:)
> 
> [The Bond-Breaker Murders](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562996)

**Author's Note:**

> Ol Monons: My heart


End file.
